Letting Go
by Lirenel
Summary: What happens when the High King does not take his brother's hand as the magic starts pulling them? What happens when the Just King returns to Narnia...alone? A Prince Caspian AU. Any warnings can be found on my profile.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Letting Go**  
Disclaimer: **I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia, etc.**  
Note: **Well, it's finally here. It's been almost a year since I began writing this (longhand), but now it's done (all 34 chapters), and I'll be posting a chapter either every day or every other day. A big, big thanks to my beta, laily7520, for looking this over for me. She's done a great job making sure this actually makes sense.**  
Note 2: **This is a Prince Caspian movie AU. In it, I've attempted to fix some of the mistakes of the movie while still exploring an interesting "what if" scenario that hit me almost the first time I watched the movie. Hope you like it!

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Still frustrated at his brother's childish actions, and hurt by Peter's refusal to acknowledge his aid, his very existence, Edmund found himself sulking on the station bench. Perhaps it was not very kingly of him, but at the moment he did not care. Peter wasn't the only one who missed Narnia! Edmund nearly ached with longing for his home, for the place where he could be the Just King and not "just that strange boy" as he had become in England. Still, unlike Peter, however much he missed Narnia and Aslan with everything in his soul, he at least still trusted that they would return one day; a sentiment only Lucy seemed to share anymore.

In fact, it was Lucy who first felt the stirrings of magic, a hand pinching her, pulling her towards fate. Soon all four stood on the station platform, their whole beings tingling with that pulling song. "Everyone hold hands!" yelled Susan, not wanting them to get separated.

Edmund didn't respond at first to his sister's command, and Peter roughly grabbed at him. Anger flared in Edmund, anger over Peter's actions and attitude, and he defiantly declared, "I'm not holding your hand!"

It was then that fate twisted from its course. Whether Aslan planned this all along, it can't be known, though nothing happens in Narnia but by the will of the Lion. Regardless, Peter's frustration, his anger at his situation and at his brother being a self-righteous nuisance, bubbled up and the High King of Narnia, acting very much like a petulant child, pulled his grasping hand away from Edmund.

Standing separately from the others, Edmund watched as the world swirled around him, breaking apart. The pinching moved from his skin to his very gut; pulling him, dragging him forward…and away from his siblings. Suddenly, he began spiraling head over feet, whirling through some stream of magic. At one point his heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest and black spots obscured his vision. More twisting and, as suddenly as it started, Edmund blinked his eyes and he was lying on his back beneath a canopy of trees.

Edmund sat up, slowly as he still felt somewhat dizzy. Taking in his surroundings, he first of all noticed, with a bit of apprehension, that he was alone; Peter, Susan, and Lucy were nowhere to be seen. His second thought, in a flash of remembered recognition, was: "Lamppost?"

And indeed, there was a lamppost only a few feet away, overgrown with ivy and seeming to almost sprout from the ground as some sort of iron tree. A smile spread across Edmund's face. The trees around it might have changed, but Edmund recognized where he was: the Lantern Waste. He was in Narnia.

~*~

Edmund took a few moments to take stock of his situation. Most pressing were his missing siblings. He ran a small search pattern from Lantern Waste, but found no sign of them. "Alright," Edmund muttered to himself. "They probably landed somewhere else." Which meant he wasn't likely to find them standing around the Western Wood. He would need help, which meant finding Narnians. Hopefully friendly ones, since the only weapon Edmund had at the moment was his torch, and there was only so much he could do with that. Luckily he knew of some nearby loyal Narnians. And so Edmund started off to the Beavers' dam.

Unfortunately, the Lantern Waste was not the only part of the Western Wood to have changed, which caused a sense of uneasiness to settle in the pit of Edmund's stomach. How long had they been gone, that the trees would change so much? The shock came when he reached what should have been the middle of the Wood and he found the _end_ of it. Half the forest was gone, replaced by clear hills of tall grass. _Oh Aslan, the trees! My people! What happened? _Edmund had been crowned to the Western Woods, this was _his_ land; many of these trees had housed his people, had _been_ his people. And it was gone, with no trace of what had once been there.

Edmund had to hold back tears as he slunk through the tall grass, knowing in his heart that he would not find his friends. The forest couldn't disappear in only a few years. It must have been centuries since their reign. His fears were confirmed as he crested a hill and stared dumbly down at the large city that lay nestled where once had been a humble home of wood. A great castle of old, weathered stone overlooked the city, capped by a large, fluttering banner. A banner that alone had not changed much in the past centuries. Edmund's back stiffened as he recognized the golden compass standard. _Telmarines._

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	2. Chapter 2

**Note**: Wow, thanks for the great response for the first chapter! Hopefully this will live up to expectation. (Also, I thought this was longer, but it apparently wasn't. Go figure. Anyway, chapters get a little longer after this one; right now is still set-up)  
Also, several people asked if this story relates to _Terror Gold_. I will say this: Unless stated otherwise, none of my stories occupy the same "universe", so to speak. So while similarities may exist, direct mirrors are unlikely.

**Chapter 2**

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Telmarines. In Narnia. Edmund could only imagine how this had happened. His eyes tightened in determination. _I very well am going to find out_. After all, he was King Edmund: known for his justice, his mercy, his diplomacy, his strength,…and his ability to use subterfuge and stealth to protect and serve his country.

Of course, Edmund did not have much time to think up a plan, as he took notice of a large group of horsemen, many heavily armed, riding from the north and heading straight for him. Within moments he was surrounded, at least three Telmarine crossbows pointed at his chest. Not a very promising situation.

One bearded man, obviously the leader of the group, moved his horse next to Edmund, pointing his sword at the boy. "Who are you, and what is your purpose here?" Oh yes, definitely a Telmarine. Paranoid, distrustful, and with the same blasted, pompous accent that Edmund remembered.

Edmund shifted his posture to that of a submissive peasant. "Please, my lord, I would not to think any harm. I was just footing to the city." His Telmarine peasant accent was rather good, if he said so himself. He just hoped it was still used in this time.

"For what purpose?"

_Think quick_. "Our farm has not been doing well, my lord. I thought to come to the city to sight a job. Maybe give back the pay to mine parents. At least I should to be one less mouth to feed."

Though the man still looked suspicious, Edmund knew he had convinced him at least slightly. "General." Another Telmarine voice broke through, and Edmund watched as a young man, about Peter's age, push his horse through the surrounding horsemen. The boy had a confident, almost regal, bearing and a face that was rather more pleasant and cheerful than his Telmarine brethren. The dark-haired boy addressed the leader, "I believe the stables are looking for another hand." He turned to Edmund. "Are you any good with horses?"

Edmund bowed his head. "Yes, my lord. I dealt them a lot on the farm."

The General did not look happy. "Your Highness…"

The boy cut him off with a smile. "He is hardly dangerous, Glozelle. He's unarmed, and obviously far from home as his strange clothing suggests. You do not need to make an enemy out of every boy who walks within five miles of Beaversdam." He turned back to Edmund. "Just go to the royal stables and speak with Tarin, he will help you."

Edmund tried not to laugh. Not dangerous, hah. He could probably find three ways to kill him with just his torch, but he thought he rather liked this boy. "Thank you, my lord. Thank you greatly. May I tell this man, Tarin, you sent me, Lord…?" asked Edmund, seeking the name of this strangely-kind Telmarine.

"Of course, please tell him I sent you," the boy smiled again as he turned his horse to leave. "And I am Prince Caspian."

Edmund bowed deeply, as was proper. "Thank you, Your Highness." With a friendly nod back, Caspian and the other Telmarines rode off, leaving Edmund to follow behind. With a sigh, Edmund headed to the city of Beaversdam. "Hardly dangerous," he muttered with disgust, out loud this time, and walked towards his future.

~*~

As this Prince Caspian had said, all Edmund had to do was talk with Tarin, the stablemaster, and he had a job. Well, after he showed his skill at handling horses that was. Luckily, having a Talking Horse as a best friend meant Edmund was rather brilliant at dealing with their dumb cousins. Tarin was elated, and Edmund was ensconced in the center of the Telmarine capital in Narnia.

He learned much in only the first few days at the stable. Prince Caspian was the son of the late King Caspian, ninth of that name since Caspian the Conqueror - which meant that Edmund had been right about the amount of time that had passed. Even though this Caspian should be king, Narnia was ruled by his uncle, Lord Protector Miraz, whose name brought a ghost of fear or anger to the eyes of even the lowliest peasant. Apparently this Miraz was a rather cruel tyrant, and ruled his people through terror. Not a harsh word was spoken aloud, but Edmund sensed the fear and heard the whispers.

Harder to learn for Edmund was that the Telmarines thought that the Narnians were only fairy tales: objects of old stories, extinct if they ever existed. The reign of the Pevensies had been almost completely lost to history, replaced with legends and horror stories. Though Edmund did find it rather amusing that the Four Sovereigns had been turned into the Giant King Goldenfire, Prince Darksilver, and their nameless wives (Susan would be furious). Still, despite the dismissal of the existence of Narnians, rumors of ghosts in the forests gave him hope that his people lived still, hidden and waiting.

As time went on, Edmund began suspecting just what they were waiting for. Or rather, who.

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Again, sorry about the shortness. It get's better, promise!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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Within the first few days of his new employment, Edmund ran into Prince Caspian again when the Prince was unsaddling his horse after a ride. "Your Highness, if I might, that would to be my job."

Caspian started, having not heard Edmund come into the stall. "Oh. Yes, well, I enjoy taking care of Destrier." And, judging by the fact that Destrier was happily nuzzling Caspian's pockets for hidden treats, the horse enjoyed having his rider take care of him as well. Caspian gave Edmund a friendly smile. "It allows me to escape my studies as well, for which I am thankful."

While Edmund heartily related to the sentiment, he had to act the uneducated peasant boy who knew little of tutors and homework. "As you say, Your Highness," he said stiffly, giving a polite bow.

"Please, call me Caspian."

Edmund pasted on a startled look. "I could not do, Your Highness. You are the Prince. It would to be improper."

Caspian's smile faltered, and he turned to continue brushing down Destrier. "Improper, yes, I suppose so."

Edmund blinked as the sad look on Caspian's face registered and realization hit. The Prince was lonely. Edmund had fallen into the trap of assuming Caspian led a life similar to his own at Cair Paravel. But whereas Edmund had had his siblings and Philip and many friendly Narnians surrounding him, likely Caspian had no one. Miraz did not sound like a very fatherly figure, and would likely want to keep Caspian isolated in order to prevent him from gaining any sort of allies from amongst his peers. And, as someone close in age to him, Caspian likely saw Edmund as a potential friend, despite, or perhaps because of, his status. Schooling his features to a neutral position, Edmund quietly picked up another brush and began working on Destrier's other side. "Did Destrier ride well, Caspian?"

Edmund heard Caspian's brush still for a moment on Destrier's neck. The happiness in the Prince's reply was audible. "He did very well, though he still tends to spook at butterflies." Caspian smiled at Edmund over Destrier's back. "Not anything else, mind you. He can handle snakes and rabbits and leaves, but not butterflies."

The two boys shared a laugh at Destrier's expense. Edmund patted the horse fondly. "Ah, Destrier. We mean no fault to you. It is for two friends to fun on another friend, isn't it?"

Caspian mirrored his action and grinned, looking much younger than his years. "If we are friends, might I know your name?"

The hidden king smiled back. "I am called Ed, if you will." As if greeting him also, Destrier tossed his head with a wicker as Edmund patted him again. For the first time since realizing that all he knew in Narnia was gone, Edmund was feeling happier. These two were not Philip and Peter, but they could be friends.

~*~

For nearly two months Edmund played the part of Ed, stableboy and Telmarine peasant. While the work was not overly burdensome (he was certainly gaining muscles, or maybe it was regaining the muscles he used to have) and Caspian was turning into a good friend, still, Edmund was growing anxious. He had heard no word of his siblings, not one clue as to where they would be or what they were doing or if they were safe. Whenever he could, he would exercise the horses close to the distant treeline, hoping to catch sight of a hidden Narnian or be seen by anyone who might be looking for him.

Though Edmund thought he was hiding his agitation well, apparently Caspian could see through him. This was revealed one day when Caspian was riding Destrier as Edmund exercised Blanco. The prince watched as Edmund's eyes often strayed eastward and broke the quiet with a soft, "You are missing your family, are you not?"

Edmund jerked his head to look at Caspian. They had not spoken much about personal topics, keeping to light subjects. All Edmund had ever said about his family was that they worked one of the eastern farms, which was probably why Caspian had noticed where Edmund's eyes drifted. "I should to miss them greatly. It has been a far time; we have never lived apart this long, afore."

"What are they like?"

It was obvious that Caspian was genuinely curious, perhaps induced by longing for a real family of his own. Edmund looked off back east. "Mine mam…_my _mam," he purposefully corrected, as Caspian had been trying to 'teach' him proper Telmarine, "and my pa are good kith, but work hard and far long in order to get us by. There is to me a brother, of your age, Caspian, and two sisters. I…" Edmund sighed, remembering the day he had last seen his family. "My brother and me would to fight – were fighting – before I separated from them. My last words for him were anger." And Edmund was having a hard time forgiving himself for that. Peter may have been acting like a prat, but Edmund had always tried to support his brother and king, regardless. Yet he had sunk into selfishness and hurt at the train station, and who knew what consequences would result from his mistake?

Caspian gave him a sympathetic look. "I am sorry. Could you not visit them?"

_If only._ "No. I am sent here to work and so I do. I keep my pay for them. I would to hope my brother or sisters should arrive someday to fetch it." Shaking his head, Edmund gave Caspian a weak smile. "I would like to see them again."

Caspian nodded, his face wistful. "I wish…I wish I had a family to care like that. I do not see my uncle and aunt often. Perhaps…perhaps when my cousin comes I will have someone to care for."

Edmund's mind snapped back to the present and his eyes narrowed. "Cousin?"

The prince nodded. "Yes. My aunt is due to give birth in about a month. I thought that was fairly well known."

He _had_ heard that Lady Prunaprismia was pregnant, but, if stable gossip was anything to go by, so were every other noble lady, their daughters, and even Lord Miraz. Stableboys were not always reliable sources of information. Edmund gave a tight smile. "I must not to be paying attention. Congratulations to thine aunt."

The conversation changed course after that, but the news never left Edmund's mind. This was possibly an exceedingly dangerous situation for Caspian, one of which the prince seemed naively ignorant. If the child was a son, Miraz would have an heir of his own blood; there would be no need for the Lord Protector to allow Caspian to continue to live. Luckily, Caspian didn't notice Edmund's distractions as they continued their ride.

Later that night, lying on the mat in the small room he called his own, Edmund flipped through the thoughts in his head. In the time he had known Caspian, Edmund had become increasingly sure that the prince was the focal point behind him being called back to Narnia. Surrounded by an ocean of dour and, if rumor held any truth, cut-throat Telmarine nobles, Caspian somehow had managed to grow up free from the darkness he lived in. And Edmund had an inkling as to where that freedom came from: the same place he hoped he could find an ally in saving his friend's life.

~*~

_Well, that explains a few more things_, thought Edmund as he closed the book and leaned back in the chair. The room he sat in was a combination of a room and an office, cramped but cozy. With few decorations except for shelves of books, the room reminded Edmund ever so much of the house of his friend, Mankanik the Dwarf. Which, of course, added to his suppositions concerning the room's owner.

The owner who just then entered the room, pausing as he saw Edmund sitting at his desk near the lit fireplace. Edmund casually leaned back into the chair, crossing his arms. "Please step in, Doctor Cornelius. I would to be waiting for you. Oh, and you should wish to close the door."

Wary, the professor did so, noticing the dark menace that came with the boy's words. "You work in the royal stables," the old man stated, having recognized him from one of the few times Caspian convinced him to go on a ride.

"That I be."

Edmund's blank expression seemed to unnerve Cornelius. "May I help you?"

The hidden king let an intimidating smile grace his features. "Ah, but Doctor, I think it is you who is to need aid. For I do not deem Lord Miraz as one to approve you to teach the prince tales of Old Narnia." To emphasize his point, Edmund lifted up the book he had been reading, full of true stories of Narnia.

Cornelius stiffened at the accusation. "You are mistaken. I have not taught Caspian anything from those books, as the Lord Protector commanded."

Edmund just smirked. "I think I am not to believe you: Mysterious astronomy lessons on a tower that might to be not best for star-gazing, but best to not be heard by curious ears. Books on old-forth kings and queens, and beasts of speech. And, it is to my mind, a mam or pa with dwarf-blood in their veins."

"What do you want?" demanded a badly-shaken Cornelius, who seemed to be desperately trying to figure out how this peasant learned so much.

Putting the book on the desk, Edmund refolded his arms. "It is not to my care that you be dwarf or tell far tales. I care that you are to do seditious acts towards my Lord Protector. If you are to be loyal to him, I have not a fight with you."

Cornelius looked at him guardedly. "I am loyal."

"You walk on all allegiances but to him?" Edmund watched as Cornelius nodded, albeit with reluctance. "You should to give away your loyalty to Narnia?"

"Yes."

"To this High King?"

"I…yes."

"To Aslan?" There was a great silence, so Edmund pressed further. "Do you give away your loyalty to this Aslan-lion?"

Cornelius was visibly shaking, seeing not just a boy but his own death in front of him. Nevertheless, Edmund saw when he made up his mind. "I do not."

Edmund raised a menacing eyebrow and stood, though a child still taller than the tutor. "I will be moved to declare your guilt to my Lord if you should not to denounce this lion-lord of yours."

Cornelius raised his chin in defiance. "Not for my life would I betray Aslan."

"And what of Caspian? Surely your student will stare at the brunt of your punishment for treason to my Lord. And share in it as well."

The half-dwarf's eyes blazed with determined faith. "Then that will be my final test for him: that he will stay true to good and Aslan and not fall to the evil of his ancestors. For I will not renounce Aslan."

For a moment, Edmund brought his full imposing and dangerous aura to bear on the professor, but Cornelius did not waver. Then, in an instant change that had Cornelius blinking in confusion, Edmund relaxed and, with a pleasant laugh, clapped the befuddled man on the back. "Well spoken, my friend. You would to prove yourself worthy Narnian."

The sudden disappearance of all sense of peril had Cornelius spluttering, "What?"

Edmund gave him a sheepish smile. "Give me forgiveness, sir. I would to wish to make sure of your loyalty before I revealed myself."

"Revealed yourself? I don't understand."

"I think it is to your knowledge that the dwarves were not the only Narnians to bind with the Telmarines in family."

Cornelius fumbled with his glasses. "I…are you saying that _you_ are Narnian?"

Edmund nodded. "Even your books tell of those human Narnians who would to hide themselves amongst the enemy."

"Yes, but, what…I do not understand."

Edmund's demeanor turned serious as he came to the matter at hand. "You did ask me what I wanted. As it is to my mind, so to yours that Prince Caspian is the best of hope for the future of Narnia. A hope now threatened by the coming of his cousin, as you should to know. I want to save him."

Cornelius slumped, the matter obviously having laid hard on him. "Yes, I know he is in danger. I…I have been thinking…" Suddenly he stopped, suspicion snapping onto his face. "Why should I believe you, after you broke into my room and threatened me?"

With a smile, Edmund replied, "Because I should not to actually go now to Miraz with my accusations. Because you know me as a friend to Caspian. And because you have no further choice."

Still uncertain, Cornelius still nodded his acknowledgment. "Very well. I have been trying to think of a plan to save Caspian from his uncle, but have met with little success."

Edmund sat down in the room's second chair, allowing the doctor his own seat. "Then we must to begin to plan, my good professor. We have a very small time."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: **Some people seem confused about Edmund's fake accent. I didn't take it from any known way of speaking, but it was kind of inspired by how one might literally translate another language, particularly Latin, into English. Don't worry, it won't last forever! I just wanted to show that Edmund is skilled enough to perfectly infiltrate the castle, and to imply that he's had enough previous experience with Telmarines to be able to easily slip into Telmarine speech-patterns.

**Chapter 4**

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The plan that Doctor Cornelius and Edmund thought up was really rather brilliant. Unfortunately, the plan went out the proverbial window when Lady Prunaprismia's baby decided to make its entrance a few weeks earlier than expected. Which was why Edmund spent most of the afternoon and into the night anxiously awaiting the prearranged signal from Doctor Cornelius. One lantern in the tower window if a girl, two if a boy.

When, soon after midnight, two lights appeared in the tower, Edmund hastened to the stable and hurriedly saddled Destrier and Preton, both horses known for their speed and endurance. If any of his friends at the stable had seen Edmund, they would not have recognized him as Ed the stableboy. Clad in dark clothes and leather armor - 'borrowed' by Doctor Cornelius from Caspian - and with Telmarine steel girded at his side, Edmund looked very much the warrior he was.

With provisions already packed from earlier in the day, Edmund waited only a few minutes before Cornelius and his charge flew into the stable. Edmund grimaced in sympathy at Caspian's dazed, chalk-white face. Poor kid just had his entire world thrown upside down, a fugitive where before he had been a prince.

Caspian seemed to mount Destrier automatically as Cornelius continued his instruction, "…and follow young Ed here." With a start, Caspian turned to see Edmund mounting Preton. "He will lead you through the woods. Go south; King Dain of Archenland will give you sanctuary." Edmund watched curiously as Cornelius handed a wrapped object to Caspian. "It has taken me many years to find this. Do not use it except at your greatest need."

Edmund turned his head as student and teacher said their personal good-byes. Both Edmund and Cornelius had understood that anyone who stayed behind was likely to be interrogated, or even executed, as accomplices to the prince's escape. While Edmund was adept at riding and surviving in the wild, Cornelius felt that he would only hinder their flight. Edmund had argued, not willing to leave Cornelius to a fate that he had once shared himself at the hands of the Telmarines. However, Cornelius had inherited stubbornness from his dwarfen ancestors, so Edmund had reluctantly agreed, praying to Aslan to protect the old professor.

"Come, we must go, Caspian," murmured Edmund. With a last farewell, Caspian kicked Destrier to movement after Edmund and Preton. Fireworks celebrating the new baby burst behind them in their flight south. As they rode, Edmund spared a glance to the sky. Alambil and Tarva danced together among their brethren. _Victory and Peace. Aslan give both to us now. Protect us, guide us, lead us. Our lives are in your paws._

~*~

Edmund had them push the horses as long as they could go, anxious to put ground between themselves and any pursuers. For the first few days they rode hard, with short breaks to rest. Throughout, Caspian remained pale and silent, and Edmund respected that the exiled prince needed time to ruminate over his change in fortune, and mourn the life he left behind. Still, if the boy didn't start talking soon, Edmund might have to do something drastic and Peter-like to kindle Caspian's fighting spirit.

Luckily the situation did not devolve to violence. As they walked their horses over rocky and unsteady ground, Caspian finally spoke. "Forgive me, Ed. I have not thanked you for aiding in my escape. Or for being willing to become a fugitive yourself."

Edmund shrugged, slightly uncomfortable dealing with such sincere gratitude. "You be mine friend, Caspian…you _are_ my friend," he corrected at Caspian's quirked eyebrow. Figures, even as an exile, he was still correcting Edmund's fake accent.

"Yes, but you did not have to come along. You have lost everything, including the money for your family."

Taking in a deep breath, Edmund decided to tell Caspian the truth. At least, tell him some of it. Edmund did not think Caspian was ready to handle the shock of having a king of Old Narnia revealed to him so soon after such other shocks. "Your Highness," he said, reverting to formal address to emphasize his seriousness, "the money would to be only a secondary motive. Mine parents are in no dire straights, and my siblings…are elsewhere in the land. I would not to be sure at the first, but it is to my mind that I would to be sent to Beaversdam to aid you."

Caspian's forehead wrinkled. "I do not understand. Sent by whom?"

"Aslan."

At the name of the Great Lion, Caspian pulled Destrier up short. "Aslan," breathed out the prince as a sense of wonder and fearful awe stole over his face. "But…how do you know of the stories of Aslan?"

Edmund frowned and reached over to nudge Destrier into walking again. They could not afford to stop. "They are not stories, Caspian. Aslan is real."

"Have you…have you actually seen him?" asked the prince, his mind whirling.

Edmund thought back to his first life in Narnia: meeting Aslan, being loved and saved by him, being crowned by him. "Yes. But it would to be a far time ago. A far time."

Caspian was obviously making connections in his mind. "If Aslan exists, perhaps Narnians still do as well? Even the Professor did not know if any existed anymore. But…" the prince gave Edmund a confused look. "How did you know of Aslan and the old tales, before coming to Beaversdam?"

Edmund smiled as he related the cover story he had told Cornelius, one he had pieced together from Cornelius' books and the family names and legends of the Telmarine peasantry. "Narnia in the Old-forth Days held not just Talking Beasts and myth-folk. During the Time of Four Thrones, many humans would to be Narnians as so. When that first Caspian took his name Conqueror, many of those who would not to be killed served the Telmarines, and came to bonds with them in marriage. Most be only peasants, but they still keep stories of their ages-gone."

"Then…then Narnians still exist!" Edmund thought, amusedly, that Caspian looked likely to fall off Destrier in shock and happiness. Apparently Cornelius was telling the truth when he said Caspian practically lived for stories of Old Narnia.

"If there be Narnians not of mixture in these lands, I do not know. But among those the nobles look over, the blood of Narnia still stirs. Turn your mind, though. We must to canter if we are not to be caught and killed."

And so they did. Edmund forced them to keep as grueling a pace as possible without hurting the horses, knowing full well that his small, hurried acts of sabotage in the stables would only have held off pursuit for so long. During breaks and slow goings, the two talked as they could about Narnia and about their situation. Caspian, one night, confided in his anger over his own naiveté concerning his cousin's birth, and his sadness that he had lost any chance of integrating himself in a family.

As Edmund listened, his heart went out to the forlorn prince. He could not imagine living without a family that loved him; it was hard enough being separated from his siblings, both physically as he was now, and in how Peter, and to some extent Susan, had pushed him away in England. But to not have a family at all…Now, Edmund usually was not one for sentimentality; he showed his caring through deeds, leaving words to Lucy. Lucy was not there, though, and so Edmund found the words he hoped were right. "If it be your wish…you could to be a brother to me and mine siblings."

Edmund knew he had spoken well when Caspian's face lit up like a child on his birthday. "Truly? You would…Your family would allow that?"

The hidden king bit back a grimace as he thought about Peter's reaction to this. "Well, mine sisters will take you most heartily to our family, the younger especially. She should to take you regardless of my offer, it is to my mind. Mine brother, though…he is like not to be so open. He might even to be somewhat hostile." Edmund gave Caspian an encouraging smile. "But we will to work on him. He will accept at some time."

Caspian smiled back, his expression shy. "I…I thank you. It means a great deal to me that you would offer your family to a naïve prince who has lived in a castle all his life and does not know as much as he used to think he did about the real world." The last part was said rather self-critically and Edmund shook his head in hidden amusement.

"I think that you will to learn, if only by need." Edmund added softly, to himself, _And our lives are not as different as you think._

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	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** Several people have noticed what they deem references to my story "Terror Gold". I'm not saying they're wrong. I'm not saying they're right either. But I will say that all my stories, unless noted otherwise, belong in different universes. Similarities do not necessarily mean mirrored action.

**Chapter 5**

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Despite their good head-start and hard pace, two weeks into their flight, and nearing the mountains bordering Archenland, Edmund and Caspian realized that they were not so far ahead of their pursuers as they hoped. Several times they barely escaped detection. They had to veer west, away from the Pass of Anvard in hopes of losing the Telmarines. Even when crossing over the River Northarrow, Edmund only had a moment to softly seek the permission of the river-god, and mourn when the waters remained silent as death.

The two soon found themselves in another woods, thick with voiceless trees. They were forced to gallop as their pursuers caught their trail, dodging branches and rocks in desperate flight. In one moment, either unfortunate or fated, Caspian dared to look behind him to catch sight of the enemy, only to fall foul of some tree that perhaps had woken if only for a brief moment and objected to the presence of the young Telmarine.

Sensing more than seeing his friend's predicament, Edmund turned to find Caspian groggily struggling to sit up as not only a group of Telmarines soldiers, but also, impossibly, a Red Dwarf bore down on the helpless prince. Knowing, or hoping, that the Telmarines were the greater threat, Edmund unsheathed his borrowed sword and let lose a battle cry before engaging the horsemen. He vaguely noticed the Dwarf fighting alongside him when a sound he had not heard for ages rang out behind him, around him, through him. Gasping, Edmund dropped his sword and doubled over on Preton's back. His chest ached as it had over two months before; and this time, as the black spots formed over his sight again, he could not fight unconsciousness. He did not even feel the earth as he fell to the ground, nor hear Caspian's frightened shout.

~*~

The first thing Edmund noticed when he woke was that something smelled delicious. The second thing was that there was an annoying person shaking his shoulder. Blinking his eyes open, Edmund saw the concerned face of a badger. Still dizzy and not thinking straight, Edmund slurred out, "Cornhusker?"

The badger looked startled. "My name is Trufflehunter. Here, you look like you could use this."

Edmund blinked again, his memory returning. No, this badger was definitely not the court historian of Cair Paravel and he had not fallen asleep in the library again. He glanced at the cup Trufflehunter held out, and gratefully took it. The water was cold and sweet, and felt good on his parched tongue. Hearing a groan, Edmund turned his head to see Caspian waking up, his head bandaged.

"Great, now they're both awake. I told you, we should have killed them when they were still out of it." Edmund looked towards the gruff voice and was unsurprised to see a grumpy Black Dwarf glaring in his direction.

Trufflehunter frowned at the Dwarf. "And I told you that I would take care of them, not kill them. They're just boys, Nikabrik."

"They're Telmarines! You think their friends are treating Trumpkin like a king?"

As Trufflehunter defended who Edmund could only assume was the missing Red Dwarf, he caught the pointed look Caspian was giving him. Edmund shook his head, hoping Caspian would heed his advice and not make a break for the door as he was clearly planning. Luckily, though not happily, Caspian silently agreed not to escape and instead addressed the arguing pair. "You are Narnians," he said as both he and Edmund eased their way slowly into the main room.

Nikabrik rolled his eyes. "Well there's an obvious statement if there ever was one. Are all Telmarine soldiers so stupid?"

Caspian looked affronted, though Edmund wasn't sure if it was from being called a soldier or stupid. "I'm not a soldier. I am Prince Caspian." When neither Narnian looked very impressed, he weakly added, "…the tenth."

"And your friend there?"

Caspian glanced at Edmund a moment before straightening his back as best he could in the small cave. "Ed is aiding me in escaping my uncle, Lord Miraz. My aunt has given birth to an heir, and now my uncle wishes…wishes to kill me."

Trufflehunter gave Edmund a curious look before turning his attention to Caspian. "Well, that changes things."

Nikabrik snorted, a rough smile on his face. "Yes, it means we won't have to kill you ourselves. We can just leave you in the woods for the Telmarines to find."

Seeming to realize that his very presence was putting these Narnians – beings he had been desperate to meet as a child – in danger, Caspian moved for his armor that stood by the door, and motioned for Edmund to do the same. "You are right."

"Where are you going?" Trufflehunter asked, confused.

"My uncle will not stop looking for us until I am dead. We must leave."

"No." Three heads turned to stare at Edmund, who had not spoken before.

Caspian in particular looked confused. Though Edmund had taken the lead in the escape, due to him being a bit better at navigating through even a changed Narnia and at survival skills in general, he had always acted the peasant servant, despite their friendship. Now Edmund was defying what would seem to Caspian to be close to an order. "Ed?"

Edmund straightened and looked sternly at Trufflehunter and Nikabrik. "He is not Prince Caspian. He is, by straights, _King _Caspian the Tenth. Though he be a Telmarine in blood, he is Narnian in heart. You would to do well to aid him." Edmund turned his stare to Caspian. "Your Majesty, here now we find that those of Narnia still exist. As king you must to seek their good above your own."

Trufflehunter nodded. "He is right. You are meant to save us. Look!" Edmund held back a gasp as the Badger revealed a very familiar object. "Don't you know what this is?"

Caspian moved closer, taking the item gently from Trufflehunter's paws. It gleamed ivory in the firelight, the etchings clearly visible. As Caspian's eyes widened, Edmund realized that Doctor Cornelius must have described this in his lessons. "Queen Susan's horn."

The Badger nodded. "Though lost for ages, it has long been believed that, one day, the horn would be found. And when blown, that perhaps it will call the Kings and Queens of Old back to Narnia. We Narnians," he glanced at a bored-looking Nikabrik, "at least, some of us believe that whoever blows the horn will lead us in victory against the Telmarines, alongside the High King and his royal siblings."

Edmund watched as Caspian debated within himself. The easier course of action would be to continue on to Archenland, and live out his years in exile. But Edmund sensed the fire in Caspian that burned with a desire to see Old Narnia restored, to live among centaurs and dryads. To see Aslan. Caspian sucked in a breath as he made his decision. "We will need an army bigger than two humans, a Badger, and a Dwarf."

Edmund smiled.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

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_Well_, thought Edmund as he took in the group of angry Narnians that encircled him and Caspian, _it wasn't like I was expecting much different from this._ He had known that Nikabrik, grumpy Black Dwarf though he was, likely spoke for a good many Narnians, if not more than Trufflehunter. The two Narnians had led them to the Dancing Lawn, different from what Edmund recalled. For one thing, all the trees remained still and silent. For another, he was being guarded as a prisoner by an angry Faun and a Wolf, instead of being lauded as an honored guest.

Edmund was not quite sure what made him keep quiet about who he was. He was fairly certain Trufflehunter suspected, judging by the Badger's pointed questions about Edmund's past and knowledge of Narnia. Still, his inner voice cautioned him to hold his piece. And so, Edmund allowed Caspian to continue in the lead, which was why Caspian was the one standing in the middle of the threatening circle, nervously producing Susan's horn.

The Narnians were not very impressed, as most seemed to agree with Nikabrik who accused Caspian of stealing it from them.

"I did not steal anything!" exclaimed Caspian, rather hurt at the impugning of his honor.

Close to Edmund, a Minotaur snorted. "Didn't steal anything? Shall we tell them the things the Telmarines have taken?" As the Narnians shouted their lists, Edmund bit his bottom lip. It was hard not to feel the same anger over what had been lost. It hurt to see the children of his friends living like ghosts in a forest that no longer danced; it hurt to know that he and his family had fought and suffered so much to protect Narnia, only to find it lost to Telmarines.

Still, he had to smile when Caspian fought back, with the very argument Edmund had given him during the journey when the young Telmarine had been brooding over the loss of Old Narnia. "I may be of Telmarine blood, but I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my ancestors. Anymore than you, Black Dwarfs, or Minotaurs, or Wolves, can be held accountable for those of your races who served the White Witch." Those races named muttered among themselves as Caspian continued. "It is said that there were even those of you who denied allegiance to the Witch and served the Four." Edmund thought back to his guard and all they went through to prove their loyalty, never truly accepted by the other Narnians. "Everyone is responsible for their own choices, not that of their fathers or kinsmen. And I have decided to fight for Narnia. For a _free _Narnia. Let me help you."

"We don't need your help!" shouted someone in the crowd.

Trufflehunter shuffled forward. "Perhaps some of you have forgotten, but we Badgers remember well that Narnia was never right except when a son of Adam was king."

Nikabrik glared at his friend. "His pretty words are all well and good, but he's still a Telmarine. Why would we want him as our king?"

Edmund watched as Caspian drew himself up, gaining a kingly air. "As I said, I cannot deny my Telmarine heritage; but my heart has always belonged to Old Narnia. I am rightfully…king among the Telmarines. And if you help me gain my throne, I can bring peace between us."

A majestic Centaur, Glenstorm by name, stepped forward and Edmund held his breath. This Centaur was a leader among the Narnians, according to Trufflehunter, and his support could go a long way in convincing the others. "It is true that the time is ripe. I watch the skies, for it is mine to watch as it is yours to remember, Badger. Tarva, the Lord of Victory, and Alambil, the Lady of Peace, have met in the high heavens. And here, a son of Adam has come forth to offer us back our freedom."

Edmund let out his breath. There may be more to say, but Caspian had done it. A squirrel chattered in the trees above, excitedly asking if peace was truly possible. Caspian nodded, with confidence that did not quite meet his eyes. "Two days ago, I believed that, if Talking Animals or Centaurs had ever existed, surely they were long extinct. Yet here you are, in strength and numbers that the Telmarines could never have imagined, or I could ever hope. It is time for the Narnians – for all of us – to come out from the shadows. If we work together, we have a chance to take back what is ours."

Glenstorm nodded his approval. "If you will lead us, then my sons and I offer you our swords." As Edmund had predicted, others among the Narnians followed Glenstorm's lead, including the Mouse Reepicheep, whom they had met earlier and whom Edmund thought would likely be an asset in any stealth mission they might undertake.

Trufflehunter put forth a warning, reminding Caspian that Miraz and his army would be following them. Caspian agreed. "If we are to be ready for them, we must hurry to find soldiers and weapons. I am sure they will be here soon."

Glenstorm bowed, but did not ask for orders as would be expected. Instead he declared, "There is still another matter to discuss, sire."

When Caspian looked confused, Nikabrik broke into the conversation. "Yah, like who this Telmarine soldier of his is and what to do with him."

All eyes turned to Edmund, who just leaned nonchalantly against a tree. Caspian's eyes burned a glare at the Dwarf. "Ed is a friend, loyal to me and to Narnia."

Nikabrik's disgusted, "Are you so sure of that?" was interrupted by Trufflehunter.

"I believe Glenstorm was speaking of the Horn of Queen Susan."

Glenstorm nodded. "We heard its call two nights ago, which brought us together now. Yet nearly three months ago we heard its echo sound through the land. The stars denied that it was time to rise up, as they tell us now. What do you know of this, Your Majesty?"

Edmund frowned as he tried to remember hearing an echo, but apparently Caspian did not have such trouble. "I do not know where it came from, as the horn was not in my possession at the time. I remember hearing the sound, though. It was not a day before…" his voice trailed and he changed what he was going to say. "I do not know what the echo meant," he reiterated. "Trufflehunter told me that it is believed that the Four Sovereigns will appear at its sound."

"That is the belief we hold," said Glenstorm, "but we do not know when or where the High King and his siblings may appear."

Caspian's brows furrowed slightly, as if trying to decide his next words carefully. "I do not know of the High King's whereabouts but," he sucked in a breath, "I believe one of the Four has already come. Am I correct…King Edmund?"

The shocked Narnians followed Caspian's gaze to stare at Edmund. With a shrug, Edmund pushed away from the tree. "Very good, Caspian. What gave me away?" Oh, it felt good to speak in his own voice again!

As the excited murmurs rose in the crowd, Caspian blinked, almost surprised that his conjecture had been correct. "I only just put it together, when Lord Glenstorm mentioned the horn's echo. I remembered it sounded not a day before we found you near Beaversdam. You also have a brother and two sisters, know almost more about Old Narnia than Doctor Cornelius, including that there were repentant Minotaurs on the royal guard. You seemed to know your way around the Narnian woods, but were confused by what I assume are changes in the land in the past millennium. And you know little about the placement of even prominent Telmarine towns, given you practically walked right into Beruna."

Edmund valiantly kept himself from looking sheepish at the memory of that incident. "I'm impressed."

"I'm not," declared Nikabrik, and a few Narnians backed him up. "For all we know, you're a Telmarine plant meant to gain our loyalty and then betray us."

Edmund's eyes went dark with fury. He pulled himself into his most regal posture, and the Narnians near him shifted nervously as they practically felt the nobility radiating from him. "Do not dare to presume to say that I would betray Narnia, friend Dwarf. I am loyal to Aslan, to Narnia, and to the High King, my brother. I could ask you, though, where _your_ loyalties lie, for do not think I do not recognize whose ring your wear. I trust it is but a family heirloom and not a declaration of allegiance."

Nikabrik scowled, surreptitiously hiding the ring of his ancestor, Ginarbrik servant of Jadis. Any doubts the other Narnians had fled as they excitedly surrounded their king of Old. Reepicheep bowed low before him. "Your majesty, will you then lead us in our fight and reclaim your noble rule?"

Edmund saw a shadow of regret cross Caspian's face, and perhaps not a small amount of hope. _Sorry to disappoint you. _He stepped closer to Caspian and addressed all those who crowded around. "My good people, ever since Aslan returned my royal siblings and myself to the land of our birth, I have wanted nothing more than to return to Narnia and my life here. When that day finally came, I found a Narnia not like that of my day. Still, I held hope that all could be returned to how it had been before." Edmund took a deep breath. "My Narnians, though it would honor me to rule as your king, I do not believe that this is Aslan's will. I believe…I believe that Aslan brought me back – will bring the High King and our sisters the Queens back – not to retake our thrones, but to put King Caspian on his."

There was silence as the Narnians took in what Edmund was saying. He continued, his voice surer and stronger. "It is our privilege to fight for Narnia once more. But it is not for us to rule again. It is time for King Caspian to rule, to bring freedom to Narnia, and to unite Narnians and Telmarines into one people." Edmund drew his sword and, bringing it up in front of his face, he saluted a shocked Caspian. "My sword is pledged to your fight."

Not quite knowing what to say, Caspian improvised. "I gladly accept it. But I would have you fight beside me, as equal kings, rather than to serve under me."

Edmund nodded and sheathed his sword. Glenstorm came forward and bowed. "Your Majesties."

After a pause, Caspian realized that the centaur was waiting for orders. "Lord Glenstorm, we need to establish a base, preferably hidden and fortified. What would you suggest?"

Glenstorm pondered only a moment. "There is a place, whose name is not often spoken. It would well house an army."

Caspian glanced at Edmund, but the Just King just lifted an eyebrow, forcing Caspian to give the order. "Then, please, lead us there."

* * *

.

There you go: the big reveal. There's a little more dealing with the fallout in the next chapter, too, though.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: **Just wanted to be sure it was noted that the Nikabrik/Ginarbrik connection was _not_ my original idea. The moviemakers specifically made Ginarbrik's name similar, and gave Nikabrik Ginarbrik's ring as a prop in PC, to intimate that they were relatives. Credit goes to the moviemakers for that!

**Chapter 7**

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**

As they walked – for their horses were long gone – Edmund and Caspian talked with Glenstorm, learning about the strengths and weaknesses of the forces already gathered, learning what creatures to send the Squirrels to gather to meet them. And indeed, Narnians of all sorts began joining the party throughout the remains of the night and into the morning. They mostly came alone, or in pairs, but then one of the Wolves caught scent of a herd of horses.

"Telmarines?" asked Caspian nervously, almost expecting a troop to fall upon them.

The Wolf shook his head. "Not to my nose. Narnians."

He was right; a small herd of Horses stepped through the woods, none bridled or saddled…save one. "Destrier!" cried out Caspian, who rushed forward towards the horse he had thought lost.

As Destrier blew into Caspian's hair and nuzzled him for treats, the lead stallion stepped forward. "We found him wandering the forest, Your Majesty."

Caspian smiled, his delight at his friend's return obvious. "I…thank you, my good Horse. Destrier is very dear to me."

The Horse bowed his head. "I am Bwenen of the Quicksilver Herd. We have come to join King Caspian in his fight."

Caspian bowed his head in return. "I gladly accept your aid."

Any ensuing conversation was interrupted by an indignant whinny from the herd. Edmund was amused as Bwenen sighed in resignation when a dark-coated mare pushed her way forward. "Which is the King Edmund?" she demanded with a stamp of her front hoof.

The two humans exchanged wary glances before Edmund stepped closer to the mare. "I am King Edmund, my good Horse. What do you seek of me?" he asked as politely as possible, seeing as the mare looked quite agitated.

"You may ride me, my king."

Edmund blinked. "Um, thank you, lady. I would be honored to ride you in battle."

The mare snorted and frowned at him. "No, my king, you will ride me now."

This completely stunned Edmund and the rest of the Narnians. It was considered ill manners to ride a Talking Horse except in greatest need. Bwenen, though, just sighed at the mare's strange behavior, apparently used to it. "Hwella…"

The mare was not about to back down, even for the leader of her herd. "It is my right! My family has been waiting thirteen-hundred years to fulfill our ancestral oath. I _will_ carry my king."

"Lady," Edmund interjected softly, "what is your oath?"

The mare tossed her mane. "I am Hwella daughter of Hwenith of the line of Philip Kingbearer, who swore that, when he returned to Narnia, King Edmund would ride only he or one of his family. It is my responsibility and right to carry you, my king."

"Philip," breathed out Edmund, chest tightening at the memory of his now long-dead friend. He could see little of Philip's features in this mare, not surprising after so many generations, but she certainly had her fore-sire's spirit. And his lack of respect for the conventions of their race. The fact that Philip, even after being left behind during the hunt for the White Stag, still was looking out for him caused Edmund to blink back tears. He bowed deeply to Hwella. "Child of my dear friend, it would be my honor for you to bear me as your fore-sire did. Sir Bwenen…"

The stallion shook his head and sighed. "You will not insult us by accepting Hwella's offer, Your Majesty." Bwenen smiled ruefully. "She would never give me rest otherwise."

Edmund thanked him before approaching Hwella's side. Mounting was effortless and Hwella shifted only slightly to adjust his weight. It had been some time since he had ridden bareback, but memories of riding Philip flooded back and he automatically shifted himself accordingly. Hwella whickered happily as he gently nudged her to join Caspian, who was already on Destrier.

Though Caspian looked curious, probably wondering about the story behind Philip, Edmund kept silent, his mind wandering to the past, to another Talking Horse, and the friendship they had shared.

~*~

The Narnians rested in the height of day, to accommodate the nocturnal among them and those who needed sleep after trekking through the night. Caspian was fairly grateful for the respite, tired emotionally and physically. He nearly collapsed onto a soft patch of moss that the Narnians had set aside for him and Edmund. Caspian lifted his head at the thought, looking for his friend. Edmund was standing next to the mare, Hwella, softly talking to her before giving her neck a pat and leaving her to her grazing.

"You should sleep," commented Edmund as he too collapsed, more gracefully, next to Caspian and closed his eyes.

Despite wanting to do so, Caspian knew he needed to get what was bothering him off his chest, before they reached their destination and began their war effort in earnest. "Your Majesty…"

One of Edmund's eyelids popped open and glared at him before closing again. "I thought we settled the formality issue months ago, Caspian."

"But that was before I knew…" Caspian trailed off. He was still processing the fact that his friend was actually King Edmund the Just, Knight of the Order of the Stone Table and Duke of the Lantern Waste, one of the Four Sovereigns of Narnia's Golden Age. There were too many capital letters involved in that title for Caspian to feel very comfortable calling him 'Ed' anymore. It was embarrassing enough remembering the elocution lessons he had forced on him.

Edmund just sighed and opened both eyes to look at Caspian. "I _am_ sorry for the subterfuge. It was necessary for the situation; I couldn't exactly go around a Telmarine fortress announcing I was King Edmund of Narnia." A pause, then he added, "I couldn't even do that in _my_ day."

Though Caspian's interest sparked at the reference to a story from Old Narnia, he decided to address a more pressing issue first. "Why did you not tell me when we first escaped, or even in Trufflehunter's den?" It hurt, actually, that Ed – King Edmund – had not trusted him with his identity.

Edmund's eyes narrowed as if he knew Caspian's thoughts. "It wasn't from lack of faith in you, Caspian. If I had told you, and you actually believed me, what would you have done?"

Caspian gave the question careful consideration before answering. "I would have pledged my sword to your authority."

"Exactly. You then would have insisted I be the one to convince the Narnians to fight against the Telmarines."

"They would have listened to you more quickly, and followed you without question," Caspian pointed out, thinking how much easier it would have been.

Edmund gave him a rather sharp look. "But they _needed _to listen to and follow _you._ They had to give you their trust and allegiance without pressure from me or conflicting loyalty. _You_ must be their king now."

And that frightened Caspian more than he thought possible. "I would like to but I…I do not know how to be king."

Edmund smiled warmly. "The first and greatest rule when it comes to being a king is to trust Aslan and seek his will in all things."

Caspian bit his lip. He was not sure he could do that completely, trust Aslan. Where was Aslan when Narnia needed him? When _Caspian_ needed him? The young king shook his head slightly. "What is the second rule?"

A light pack-blanket hit the side of Caspian's head. "Sleep whenever you can, because you never know when you will next rest."

Caspian used the blanket to block out the sun and, with a grin, followed orders.

~*~

They reached their destination late that evening, having stopped a few times to gather recruits. Edmund's brow furrowed as the assembled group left the woods to find a great mound that towered over a long plain. He didn't recognize where they were, having gotten his inner-compass turned around as they had journeyed. Edmund certainly didn't recall a hill of that size so near the Dancing Lawn. After only a moment's pause, the Narnians moved forward and entered the doorway that led down into the hill.

The opening tunnel led into a series of caverns and branching tunnel systems. It had apparently been used by the Narnians for years, as the torches lining the caves were fairly recent and easily lit. Edmund listened intently as Glenstorm explained the layout of the tunnels, their holding capacity, and uses. He was actually quite impressed by the system, and could see how the place could be used as a center for planning attacks.

It was Caspian who first voiced the question which had been niggling at the back of Edmund's mind. "What is this place called?"

The answer, "Aslan's How", confused Edmund. He was fairly sure that a how was a tomb, and he did not think Aslan would _have_ a tomb. After all, the Lion had created Narnia even a thousand years before the Pevensies had entered Narnia the first time. Edmund did not really think Aslan could _ever_ remain dead. He certainly had not when he had given his life to save Edmund from the White Witch. "Why is it called that?"

Glenstorm did not answer them straightly. "Come, this way."

The two humans silently followed the Centaur through the tunnels. When they reached the lowest section, they noticed that their torches were casting light upon old, faded paintings on the walls. Edmund's eyes widened and his steps slowed as he realized what the pictures portrayed. There was the coronation of himself and his siblings; across a picture of Peter, Susan, and Lucy entering Aslan's camp at Beruna with the Beavers. And there was Tumnus at the Lantern, and the girls riding Aslan to the Witch's castle. Caspian gave him a wide-eyed stare as they passed the painting of Edmund's, rather short, duel with the Witch, but neither of them spoke.

A sense of power and sanctity grew as they walked to the end of the tunnel and reached a dark cavern. Stepping into the room, Glenstorm moved to one side and lowered his torch. Instantly, a line of fire blazed up, flying around the room and casting a golden light. Edmund and Caspian gasped in unison at the sight before them.

The Stone Table, worn and broken, stood on a dais, surrounded by both upright and fallen stones. Behind the great arch, a carving of Aslan gazed down on them, glistening gold in the firelight. Edmund stared at the Stone Table, this place still sacred to the Narnians hundreds of years after the Lion's miracle had occurred. His mind was transported back to that terrible night, waking to find Aslan gone and dead, _knowing _it was his fault. He remembered the wonder when, healed of his battle wounds, he had looked up to see Aslan, alive and golden and still loving him. And he remembered his own journey to the Stone Table a year later, remembered being brought to his knees in crushing awe at the sight of the broken stone, the symbol of his undeserved redemption.

Edmund went to his knee once more, hand on his sword hilt, and head and neck bowed low; this time in fealty and love for the one who broke the Stone Table. "Glory to thee," he murmured softly, the pledge he had made so many times before. _Aslan, grant me strength. Guide my hand in service to my people. Bring my siblings safely to my side, protect them. _His eyes squeezed shut at his most desperate prayer. _Please, Aslan, bring Peter, my brother and your High King, back to me…and to himself._

_

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	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

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_Fate twisted from its course. _

_Whether Aslan planned this all along, it can't be known, though nothing happens in Narnia but by the will of the Lion. Regardless, Peter's frustration, his anger at his situation, his anger at his brother being a self-righteous nuisance, bubbled up and the High King of Narnia, acting very much like a petulant child, pulled his grasping hand away from Edmund._

~*~

Letting the distance between him and his brother grow, Peter stood on the platform and watched in anxious anticipation as the train station pulled apart around him. Hope welled in his heart as he felt the magic pulling him. He let it wash over him like the current of the sea, desperately wishing that it would bring him home.

Then the train and the station were gone, and Peter had to blink away the brightness of the sun that hit his eyes. Almost afraid the beach that now lay before him would disappear, he tentatively walked forward, barely acknowledging Susan who walked beside him. Peter let a smile, a true smile, break across his face, knowing in his heart that they were back. They were in Narnia once more.

The High King, returned to his land, looked over at his sisters. Lucy grinned at Susan before the two girls took off down the beach, shouting and shedding their shoes and heavy outer garments. Peter matched Lucy's grin with one of his own as he turned to his other side, expecting to see Edmund smiling back.

His grin faltered. The only thing to his right was sand and sea. Peter turned around in a circle, panic welling in his gut as he couldn't see his brother anywhere.

"Peter, Ed, come on! The water's lovely!"

Peter turned with wide, frantic eyes to his sisters, who were splashing in the surf. "I can't find Edmund!"

The girls instantly quieted their fun, staring at their eldest brother in disbelief. The two quickly left the ocean and their care-free attitudes, and made their way to Peter who had run back into the cave where they had entered Narnia from the train station. He shook his head as he came out again. No Edmund. Susan's eyes were wide as she asked, "How can you not find him?"

Peter tried to keep his voice steady, but worry made it harsh. "Just what I said: one minute, he was standing next to me in the station, the next he was gone."

"But you were holding his hand!" Susan's wide eyes narrowed as she saw the guilty look on her brother's face. "Peter…"

The older boy swallowed back his guilt, replacing it with blame and anger. "It's not my fault! He didn't want to hold my hand! Anyway, he's got to be here somewhere; he was being pulled by the same magic we were."

Susan was having none of it. "And you didn't just _grab_ him? Peter, we have no idea what kind of magic brought us here or how! Edmund could be anywhere, with anyone; don't you remember who he met the first time he came to Narnia alone?"

Peter felt the blood leave his face. The first time in Narnia, Edmund had run into the White Witch. The only reason he hadn't been killed on the spot was because he had agreed to betray his siblings to her. Now, though, Peter knew, and feared, that Edmund would die rather than bring harm to his family or his people. He gathered his composure and said, "Look, we can't do much ourselves like this, unarmed and unprotected. We'll make our way to Cair Paravel and send out search parties for Edmund from there."

Though Susan clearly was not happy, with Peter _or _the situation, she agreed it was the best plan. "How do we find the Cair?"

"Easy, we figure out where we are and then follow the coast either north or south." After all, Cair Paravel was by the Sea and Peter was always very good with maps. The look on Lucy's face stopped him short, though. "What is it, Lu?"

Lucy bit her bottom lip, a trait she shared with Edmund. "It's just…are you _sure_ this is Narnia?"

Peter frowned. It certainly felt like Narnia to him. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well…I don't remember any ruins on the coast. And I should know, it was my realm."

Susan and Peter followed Lucy's gaze. On the cliffs above them stood a majestic ruin. Peter felt a chill run up his spine. "I…we should check it out."

"But what about Edmund?" demanded Susan.

Peter gave her a frustrated glare. "To find Edmund we need our people's help, and the best place for that is Cair Paravel. That ruin is our best clue to where we are, as I don't recognize this stretch of coast." Turning, he stormed away to find the best route up to the ruins. Susan and Lucy exchanged a look behind Peter's back before hurrying to catch up with him.

~*~

Peter surveyed the expanse of the ruin from one of the crumbling stairs. It bothered him that he did not recognize it, despite the feeling of familiarity it exuded. As he walked back down, he heard Lucy ask, "I wonder who lived here?"

His chest tightened when he heard Susan's shocked answer. "I think _we _did."

Walking over to Susan, the three stared down at the object she held. Peter was the one who voiced what they all were thinking. "That's…that's from Edmund's chess-set." Taking the chessman from Susan, Peter half expected to hear Edmund made some sarcastic comment at his obvious statement, and he sucked in a breath at the silence he heard instead.

It was Lucy's soft, "It can't be," that pulled Peter out of his reverie as he followed his littlest sister to a fractured, overgrown marble platform. Peter and Susan let Lucy guide them to stand as she urged them to "imagine walls. And columns, there. And a glass roof."

A cold shudder washed over Peter as his mind reconstructed the ruins that lay before him, now so familiarly positioned. "Cair Paravel," he practically whispered." It's…gone."

At Susan's strangled gasp, Peter turned to look at her. She stared back with bleak eyes. "No search parties."

Peter looked back at his ruined home, devoid of not just frame but of the inhabitants that had been their friends, their family. They were gone and, with them, hope of finding Edmund quickly. "No search parties."

~*~

Their first priority, Peter determined, was to arm themselves somehow. With no knowledge of how Narnia had changed in the, what seemed to be centuries since they had left, they had no idea what kind of danger dwelt in the surrounding area. So the three quickly made their way to the location of the hidden treasure chamber. Susan helped Peter move the wall back to reveal the wooden door. Age had rotted the wood and it was fairly easy to break it down, revealing a dark stairway. Peter frowned. He considered making a torch out of his shirt, but he knew he didn't have any matches, and he doubted the girls had any on them. Edmund might have; Peter vaguely recalled that the younger boy had been carrying his bag when they were whisked away.

Lucy must have been thinking the same thing, as she commented: "This is when we need Edmund. His electric torch would be useful right now."

Peter frowned. "Electric torch?" He didn't recall Edmund having one.

Susan gave him a dark look. "Yes, the torch that Mum gave him for his birthday. Remember? That would be the birthday you forgot and didn't even apologize for not getting Edmund a present."

The older boy shifted uncomfortably, averting his eyes from Susan's accusing gaze and quickly bringing the conversation back to the original problem. "I suppose we'll just have to step carefully. I'll go first."

The three descended the stairs slowly, following the wall with their hands. Then they saw a light before them, and Peter realized that part of the ceiling must have caved in, letting in sunlight. Opening the gate, they stared, eyes wide. The treasure-room had been untouched by the years, still the same except for layers of dust and a few fallen stones and rotting timbers. "I can't believe it. It's all still here."

Susan and Lucy darted over to their respective chests, exclaiming over their old clothes which were still preserved through the centuries. Peter picked up a gold plate, engraved with a Lion's head. His hands tightened on it, anger bubbling in him as he thought of the ruin above them. Setting the plate down before he could throw it across the room, Peter stepped up to his own chest. A statue of himself as he had been, as he _should_ be, stared down at Peter as he lifted the lid. As he drew out Rhindon, his gift from Father Christmas, Peter read the inscription that had once given him such hope, but now left a bitter taste in his mouth: "When Aslan bears his teeth, winter meets its death."

Peter turned his head as Lucy finished his words. "When he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again." She paused and Peter saw the heartbreaking realization steal into her eyes. "Everyone we knew, Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers," Lucy bit her lip again, "they're all gone."

Peter's face tightened. He hated seeing that despairing look in his beloved sister's expression. "I think it's time we found out what's going on."

"And find Edmund," reminded Susan pointedly. "He might have no idea that everything's changed."

Lucy placed a hand on Susan's arm. "We'll find him. Aslan won't let anything happen to him."

Peter said nothing, only removing his shield from his chest.

Susan took a breath and composed herself. "We'll need better clothes and shoes to go walking across Narnia. Lucy, do you have your cordial and dagger?" Lucy nodded in affirmation and the three set about finding and changing into proper, Narnian clothes.

After tightening his sword-belt, Peter turned to lead the way back upstairs only to find Lucy walking over the Edmund's chest. "Lu?"

She didn't reply as she opened the chest, sadly glancing at Edmund's statue. Reaching into the box, she removed the sword that Edmund had carried at the Battle of Beruna. It was still sheathed and hanging by a belt, which Lucy proceeded to wrap around her waist. The sword settled just behind her dagger. Susan frowned. "Lucy, what are you doing?"

Lucy looked up at them, her eyes filled with determination. "When we find Edmund, he'll want his sword."

Peter did not like it. "Don't you think it's a bit heavy for you, Lucy? Let me take it."

He stepped towards her, but stopped at her glare. "You already have Rhindon, and Susan has her bow and quiver. And, if you remember, I carried a sword myself from time to time."

Of course Peter remembered, but still did not have to approve. Unfortunately, instead of backing him up, Susan walked over to the chest as well. "He'll want his Narnians clothes, too," she commented and Peter knew the argument was lost. So he waited for the girls to collect Edmund's things before they headed back to the surface. They would head west and search for Edmund, or any friendly Narnians who might still inhabit the area.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: **Chances are I won't be able to update tomorrow, as I'll be at a family reunion. Hopefully the next chapter will be up Sunday. However, to be kind, I decided to combine what had been chapters 9 and 10 (both fairly short) into this chapter, so you have a bit more to chew on. Of course that means that there will be a total of 33 chapters eventually, if you're keeping count.  
**Warning: **This chapter contains a vivid, rather violent nightmare scene, along the lines seen in "Malum Somnium".

* * *

The three siblings set off, after leaving signs at the Cair in case Edmund stumbled on it. Heading west, they did not get very far before realizing that they had hit their first stumbling block. Apparently, the peninsula on which Cair Paravel had stood in their time had been pinched off to become an island. "I suppose," Lucy stated tentatively, "we could swim across."

"I think…" Peter began, but then stopped as something in the river caught his eye. It was a rowboat with two figures sitting in it. The three ran forward, at first hoping that they could flag down the rowers for aid.

As they got to the bank, though, they realized that something was wrong. The two figures were getting ready to drop something in the water. Peter's eyes narrowed as he saw that it was a Red Dwarf. He thought the armor of the two – men? – looked familiar, but he did not have time to place it as Susan's shout "Drop him!" and one of her arrows frightened the men. They dropped the Dwarf in the river and dove off the boat themselves, one of them catching another arrow as he moved to fire his crossbow.

Peter darted into the water after the Dwarf, vaguely noting Susan giving her bow and quiver to Lucy before following him. He managed to bring the bound Dwarf to shore as Susan dragged in the boat. Just as quickly, Lucy handed Susan her things and drew her own dagger to cut the Dwarf's bonds.

They waited as the Dwarf composed himself. His first words startled them. "Drop him! That's the best you could come up with?"

Susan looked nonplused. "A simple thank-you would suffice."

The Dwarf did not seem to care for such niceties. "They were doing just fine drowning me without your help."

His ungratefulness and derisive tone towards Susan angered Peter. "Maybe we should have let them."

Lucy gave Peter a look, letting him know that she did not approved of his bad manners. "Why were they trying to kill you, anyway?" she asked the Dwarf.

"They're Telmarines. That's what they do."

Peter felt a chill that had nothing to do with his wet state, and everything to do with this new information. "What are Telmarines doing attacking Narnians? And so far east?"

The Dwarf snorted in derision. "Where have you been for the last few hundred years?"

Since Susan and Peter were busy exchanging shocked and worried glances, Lucy answered him. "It's a bit of a long story."

Talk of Telmarines reminded Peter of his unarmed state. Bending over, he picked up Rhindon and his shield from where he had dropped them to enter the water. He noticed the Dwarf staring in disbelief at his weapons, then eyeing the girls' as well. The Dwarf shook his head. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. You're it? _You're_ supposed to be the kings and queens of old?"

Peter held out his hand, glad to see even a grudging recognition of who he was. "High King Peter, the Magnificent."

The Dwarf eyed his hand skeptically and Susan bit back a giggle. "You probably could have left out the last bit."

As the Dwarf chuckled in agreement, Peter's anger burned in his humiliation. It took a great effort not to hit the insolent Dwarf, and he did remove Rhindon from its sheath. "You might be surprised."

The Dwarf, obviously a warrior in his own right, did not look impressed. "Oh, you don't want to do that, boy."

Though Peter had intended to challenge the Dwarf himself, the word 'boy' made him pause as a better idea entered his mind. "Not me. Her."

Peter nodded to Lucy who glanced back in surprise. He usually didn't care for her dueling, and here he was proposing the idea. Though wary, she slowly drew Edmund's sword. Peter held Rhindon out for the Dwarf to take, but the Dwarf hesitated. "I don't fight little girls."

Now, Peter knew Lucy had one of the kindest hearts in existence. But he also knew that one thing that could make her angry at someone is if they disbelieved or disdained her martial abilities because of her age or her sex. She _was_ the Valiant after all. Peter was not disappointed in his inner prediction, as Lucy's eyes narrowed. "If I'm just a little girl, then you shouldn't have any trouble beating me. Unless you don't think you can."

With that challenge, the Dwarf really had no choice but to accept Rhindon. He took a half-hearted swing at Lucy, which she easily parried and turned into a quick thrust at her opponent. The Dwarf barely got his sword up to block it. The exchange slowly increased in speed and intensity as Lucy called upon all the training she had gone through under General Orieus and Edmund. Finally, with a flick of her wrist, she disarmed the Dwarf.

Peter watched proudly as the Dwarf fell back on the sand, disbelief written on his face as he muttered, "Beards and bedstands, bested by a little girl."

Lucy's kindness emerged again in her victory and she gave the Dwarf a hand to help him up. "That was a good match. You nearly got me a few times, Mr…"

After a brief pause, the Dwarf realized that she was seeking his name. "Trumpkin. And no 'Mister', I'm not _that _old."

Lucy smiled at him, and Peter watched Trumpkin's embarrassment and anger melt, as usually happened when Lucy smiled. "I'm pleased to meet you, Trumpkin. I'm Lucy, and this is Susan. And you were already introduced to Peter."

Trumpkin nodded at each of them, but then frowned. "I'm no expert, but shouldn't there be four of you? Where's King Edmund?"

Peter's eyes tightened. "We…were separated from our brother when we came back to Narnia." He didn't like the worried look his words brought to Trumpkin's face. He was already inwardly fretting about Edmund wandering through a Telmarine-infested Narnia.

"Guess something was wrong with that horn, then," commented Trumpkin.

Susan's ears perked up. "What horn?"

Trumpkin quirked a grin. "I thought you, of all people, would know your own horn."

A little miffed, Susan glared at the Red Dwarf. "I left it on my saddle, the day we went hunting for the White Stag. It was not in the treasure chamber at Cair Paravel, so we didn't know what happened to it."

Trumpkin stared at her. "You mean there actually _is_ a castle lying around here?"

"A ruin," answered Peter shortly and impatiently. "And we should probably head back there to get you some weapons, Trumpkin. While we walk, you can tell us what you know about Susan's horn and the Telmarines." It was less a suggestion than an order, a command from someone used to being obeyed.

Luckily, Trumpkin did not protest, so, as they headed back to the Cair, he started telling the three Pevensies about leaving Trufflehunter's den only to stumble on a semi-conscious young Telmarine. "Let me tell you, that was a right surprise. So I went to go cut his throat…"

"What!" exclaimed Lucy in shock.

Trumpkin managed to look slightly ashamed of himself. "Er, I mean knock him out and take him for questioning. But then I saw that horn lying next to him. Now, I'm not much for the old times, but I've heard Trufflehunter tell the stories enough that I could recognize it blindfolded. So I left the kid alone and went after the Telmarines who were pursuing him."

"Wait," interrupted Susan. "If he was a Telmarine, why were the others chasing him?"

Trumpkin gave a shrug. "Didn't know it at the time, but the kid just looked scared and his friend, who returned about then, went after the other Telmarine soldiers. I figured one dead Telmarine was as good as the next. Anyway, then I was captured and dragged all the way to the Telmarine castle at Beaversdam."

"Beaver's Dam!" exclaimed all three at once. Peter's anger just grew as he thought of Telmarines infesting the home that had once belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Beaver.

Trumpkin nodded, obviously not really understanding their upset. "I was brought before the Telmarine lords, and Miraz, the Lord Protector, accused me of kidnapping his nephew, Prince Caspian."

"The young Telmarine who had Susan's horn?" guessed Lucy.

"Yah, but I didn't know then. Learned everything later when I was sitting in the dungeon that night. A man came to my cell, told me he was a half-dwarf named Cornelius, who worked as the royal tutor in the palace."

"Half-dwarf?" asked Susan, not remembering any from their own time.

"When the Telmarines took over, some Dwarfs, and almost all the human Narnians who weren't killed outright, intermarried with the conquerors. Anyway, this Cornelius told me that he had helped Prince Caspian escape because Miraz wanted to kill him."

Lucy looked confused. "Why would he want to kill his nephew?"

Trumpkin smiled slightly at her innocence. "Apparently Caspian is the rightful Telmarine king, since he's the son of the old king, Caspian IX. His throne was basically taken by his uncle, who only needed him alive as long as he didn't have an heir himself."

"I'm guessing his wife had a baby," commented Peter dryly.

"Yah. So Caspian escaped with one of the royal stableboys and headed south where they ran into us."

Susan frowned. "A stableboy?"

"Cornelius said he was a descendent of some of those human Narnians." Trumpkin grinned cheekily. "Me, I think he looked enough like Caspian that he's probably the Prince's bastard half-brother."

Though Susan gave Trumpkin a displeased look, Peter couldn't help but laugh. Luckily, before Susan could turn her glare to him, they reached Cair Paravel and busied themselves with arming Trumpkin. As they fitted him to a bow, Lucy asked, "What happened to Prince Caspian and his brother when you were captured?"

"Well, I was caught soon after someone, probably Caspian, blew the horn – I'm guessing that's what called you lot. Last I saw, Nikabrik was knocking Caspian out, and the stableboy was falling off his horse."

This rather upset Lucy. "Oh, I do hope they're alight!"

"They're Telmarines, Lu," pointed out Peter roughly.

Susan, being contrary, said, "Well, the brother at least might be part Narnian. And if Caspian was being taught by a half-dwarf and was entrusted with my horn, we can assume he knows something about Narnia."

"Just having the horn will be enough for Trufflehunter," added in Trumpkin. "If I know him, he'll have had them both healed by supper. And then he and Glenstorm will have had this Prince Caspian leading an army of Narnians against the Telmarines by breakfast the next morning. They were already worked up enough about the echo of the horn."

"Echo?"

Trumpkin shifted his bow as they left the treasure chamber. "About…almost 4 months ago now, we heard an echo of the horn. Glenstorm, he's the leader of the Centaurs, he said that it wasn't time to move against the Telmarines, but that the echo was a sign that the time was nearing. Now, with the horn actually being sounded, he and Trufflehunter will be itching to find a way to put Prince Caspian on the throne."

Peter frowned inwardly. He didn't like the sound of this Telmarine boy leading Narnians in battle while seeking his own throne. Of course, he did not trust Telmarines in general to think of anyone other than themselves. "We should head to Trufflehunter's den, find this Prince Caspian. I'm sure he'll need us if he wants to fight a war."

"What about Edmund? We can't just stop looking for him, not with Telmarines wandering about everywhere!"

Susan's insistence was beginning to frustrate Peter. Yes, they needed to find Edmund, but they needed to help Narnia too! "The situation's changed. We can still look for Edmund as we go, we'll just have a direction other than just 'west'. Besides, if Ed hears about a Narnian army gathering, he'll head straight for it. Finding Caspian is probably the best way to find Edmund."

"Are you sure that's _really_ why you want to find Caspian?" asked Susan, her voice dripping with pointed disapproval.

The air between the eldest siblings was cold with tension. Not liking it, Lucy piped up with a suggestion. "We can take the boat up Glasswater creek."

"That's probably a good idea," added Trumpkin, who was eying the High King and, supposedly Gentle, Queen warily.

Luckily Peter and Susan put aside their argument and agreed to the plan. They headed back to the rowboat in silence, no one commenting on the fact that Peter had never really answered Susan's question.

~*~

By their second day rowing up Glasswater, moods had deteriorated even further. Susan and Peter were barely talking, leaving conversation almost solely between Lucy and Trumpkin. Peter generally kept to his own thoughts as he rowed. Mostly he mentally went over their intended path, and potential strategies to attack the Telmarine forces. But, despite his efforts, Peter's mind kept being blindsided by his anger. Anger at the invasion of Narnia, the destruction of his land and people, and even at Edmund for being so stubborn and not taking Peter's hand at the train station. If he had, Edmund would be _here_, with his siblings; he would be supporting Peter in his leadership of the group and helping combat Susan's disgruntlement.

Peter tried to ignore the fact that Susan had been right in at least one point: Peter _could_ have grabbed Edmund's hand, despite his reticence. But Peter had to ignore his own culpability; if he thought too hard about it, he would spiral into a cloud of guilt and fear, knowing that, even as Peter set up the campfire, Edmund could be in Telmarine hands. And Peter didn't think he could handle that again.

Unfortunately, though Peter could move his thoughts away in daylight, in the dreams of the night he could not escape himself.

_Peter was running, his lungs heaving as he raced, clad in full armor. He had to find him, had to find him _now_. He turned a corner and his movement turned to molasses; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move. "Looking for something?" A dark-haired figure stepped out of the shadows – MirazSantosianCaspian_Telmarine _whispered his mind – his face now scarred, now smooth, one eye blue then both black. _

_Terror gripped Peter's heart, blinding terror. "What have you done!" he screamed, his voice low and scratchy, adult now childish._

_"Did you think I would not find your spy, little king?" The Telmarine grinned and stepped to the side, revealing a mess of a human body handing by bound and bloodied arms. _

_Barely recognizable, Peter knew who it was. "Edmund!"_

_The body stirred and Edmund dark, pain-filled eyes gazed at him in confusion. "Why?" he croaked, his voice as bruised as his body. "Why did you do this to me, Peter?"_

_Peter wanted to stagger back in shock, but he could not move backwards anymore than he could run to his brother's side. "I didn't…I _wouldn't_…how could you…?"_

_It might have been easier if Edmund had looked at him in anger instead of this soul-crushing hurt. "You let go. You left me and _they _found me. Why did you let go of my hand?"_

_Peter shouted his desperate protestation. "You told me to!" His excuse sounded weak and cowardly to his own ears._

_An icy voice chilled Peter to his core as the White Witch appeared, standing on the other side of Edmund from the Telmarine. "Poor little Edmund. How many times will your older brother fail to protect you before it's too late?"_

_Edmund didn't look at the Witch, his accusing eyes still locked with Peter's. "Why did you let go?"_

_Peter knew what was about to happen, felt it in his soul, but he was helpless to stop it. "No, Edmund!"_

_With a smile, the Witch whirled and shoved her wand through Edmund's body, and the younger boy's scream echoed in the shadowed hallway. Gasping back his own strangled scream, Peter stretched his hands out for his brother. They couldn't reach, not matter how hard he tried. Peter could only listen to Edmund's last whisper, "Why did you let me go?", before watching the Telmarine draw his knife slowly across Edmund's neck, silencing him forever._

Peter gasped awake, heart tight and pounding against his ribs for escape. Even now the dream was fading in detail, but Edmund's accusing gaze still floated before his eyes. Peter sat up, hugging his legs to his chest and resting his forehead against his knees to try and calm his breathing. _Not real, not my fault, not real, not my fault_, he chanted silently, desperate to believe it.

"Peter?"

His head jerked upward at Lucy's inquiring whisper, having forgotten that she had been sitting watch. He forced himself to look calm in front of his little sister. "Just waking up, Lucy. Thought I could take over the watch for you."

Lucy did not seem to believe his shaky lie, and cuddled up to his side. Her eyes saw right through him. "Are you worried about Edmund?"

Her words, hitting so close, destroyed Peter's fragile composure. "I…why didn't he want to take my hand?" he whispered, almost without meaning to, his own words striking near the center of his anger and confusion. Because a year ago, in Narnia and when first back in England, Edmund would have taken Peter's hand without question, might have even initiated the contact. Instead, Edmund had just looked at him with anger, his refusal dripping with frustration, no longer following Peter as he had so many times before.

Lucy wrapped her arm around his. "Edmund…well, we all had a hard time adjusting to being back in England. Of all of us, though, Ed managed to remain strong despite his own problems. But, because of that, he was left having to be strong for the rest of us. And he kept helping us, despite the fact that we ignored his efforts even as we depended on him always being there."

"And by 'we' you mean me, don't you?"

Lucy's eyes averted to her lap before she leaned against Peter's shoulder. "He was always there, but you didn't see him. I think…" She hesitated, but then seemed to decide it was important enough to go on. "I think he wanted to give you a chance to reach out for him, to show that you needed and wanted him."

Peter looked down at the earth by his feet and did not answer her. How could he? He could not admit, even to himself, that he had pushed Edmund away, could not dare consider that he might have hurt his little brother so much that Edmund felt he had to test Peter's love for him in such a way. Could not admit that he had failed.

Lucy squeezed his arm in reassurance, as if knowing his mind. "He'll give you another chance to show that you care. Edmund gives everyone a second chance." His heart calmed at her words, so intrinsically true. Feeling slightly better, Peter gave Lucy a small smile before standing to go get some more firewood. As he walked towards the edge of the clearing, Lucy added a warning to her comfort that struck his soul with fear. "Be careful, though, Peter. Push him away too much, and you may really lose him."

He pretended he had not heard and kept walking.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: **The reunion went well, so thank you for being patient. =D

**Chapter 10**

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Four days later and Lucy was no longer trying to comfort Peter (not that, in the light of day, he felt he needed comfort, of course). She was too busy being hurt and frustrated that no one had believed she had seen Aslan at the gorge of the River Rush. In fact, Peter had to begrudgingly respect that Lucy had not said a single "I told you so" when her chosen path turned out to be their best option. Despite this, though, Peter was not sure Lucy had really seen Aslan – Peter had not seen him, after all – and he knew Lucy could tell that he did not believe her.

So now Susan still was not talking to him and Lucy was giving him sad, disappointed looks. Trumpkin was keeping his silence and staying near Lucy, who was even yet less testy than the elder two children. Peter, as he settled to sleep that night, noted to himself in frustration that they were falling apart. It reminded him all too much of their journey to Aslan's camp when first they had come to Narnia, while Edmund had been in the clutches of the White Witch. It was not a comforting thought, and it took some time for Peter to settle his uneasiness and fall asleep.

He still didn't sleep well so, when morning came and Peter heard slight movement near camp, he woke almost immediately. Glancing around, he saw a glimpse of Lucy's red dress vanishing into the woods as he blinked back the sleep from his eyes. Scrambling to his feet, he hurriedly fixed his belt around his waist, letting Rhindon settle comfortably against his leg. Peter shook Susan and Trumpkin awake before setting off after his wayward sister.

As he followed Lucy's path, Peter tried to clamp down on his worry. First Edmund had disappeared, now Lucy was gone as well. Before he could panic, however, he saw Lucy just ahead of him. She was walking straight towards…Peter lunged forward, grabbing his sister and covering her mouth to muffle her startled scream. With a warning glance, Peter drew Rhindon and slowly stalked towards the Minotaur that marched, armed, through the wood. His mind occupied with going over how to disarm and question the Minotaur, Peter did not notice the figure coming against him until almost too late.

Luckily, Peter was able to get his sword up in time to block his attacker. In a moment he noticed that the figure was human, and wearing clothes and armor that were decidedly Telmarine. His anger boiled to the surface and he did not think as he attacked the soldier with all his strength, which had only increased the longer they were in Narnia. The Telmarine fought back well, even when Peter disarmed him. Before he knew it, Rhindon was stuck in a tree from where Peter had attempted to remove the Telmarine's head from his neck. Falling back on his training, Peter lifted a rock, poised to bash his enemy's head in.

Lucy's frantic shout stopped him mid-strike, and he noticed that the Telmarine, having just freed Rhindon, had stopped in shock as well. Peter, sensing that they were surrounded, turned his head away from Lucy's wide-eyes stare. Emerging from the woods was not only the Minotaur, but Fauns, Wolves, Dwarfs, and Centaurs. Narnians. With a jolt, Peter realized that the Narnians were not attacking _this_ Telmarine, which could only really mean one thing.

Peter turned back to the Telmarine, who still held Rhindon warily. "Prince Caspian?" Peter could not keep the tone of disbelief and antipathy from entering his voice.

Prince Caspian frowned at him. "I am rightfully _King _Caspian. And who exactly are you?"

"Peter!" came Susan's shout as she and Trumpkin rushed to the scene, unintentionally answering Caspian's question.

Caspian looked down at the sword in his hand, with a slight intake of breath as he recognized it, likely from the stories his tutor had told him. The Telmarine looked up at Peter, his face a picture of confusion. "High King Peter?" he asked, as if he did not really believe it.

Peter gave him a look of superiority, as if to remind Caspian of his place. "I believe you called."

There was a pause as Caspian's eyes flashed in anger at Peter's tone, but he composed his features quickly. To Peter's amazement, the Telmarine turned Rhindon's hilt towards the High King and bowed as he presented it. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, for attacking you. I sought only to protect my soldiers."

This threw Peter off balance; he was not expecting any sort of conciliatory gesture from this upstart who had the nerve to call himself King. "Well," said Peter, trying to maintain a royal air as he accepted his sword, "that's understandable."

Caspian nodded and picked up his own sword, sheathing it. He turned to face Susan and Lucy, bowing to them smartly. "Your Majesties, it is an honor to meet you both as well."

Susan was about to answer when the sound of a horn echoed through the woods. Caspian's eyes widened and he quickly turned to the Narnians. "Trufflehunter, lead South Company and take the arms back to the How." A Badger hurried to obey as Caspian turned to a Centaur. "Glenstorm, North Company, with me." The groups parted in precision, with Caspian and his company racing off without another word. Peter, disgruntled over being ignored, ran after Caspian, the girls and Trumpkin at his heels.

Increasing his speed, Peter caught up so that he was running on the other side of Caspian from Glenstorm. Though concentrating on not falling over tree roots, and just breathing, Peter managed to overhear some of Caspian's slightly out-of-breath conversation with the Centaur. "Simple sabotage mission, he said. Don't worry, he said. We won't be caught, he said. By the heavens, why does he always insist on such dangerous missions!"

As Caspian silenced his rant, on account of needing to breath, Glenstorm just simply noted, "Would you expect him to do anything less?"

Peter took Caspian's silence to mean that he either agreed, or that he had a stitch in his side and could not answer. However, Peter had no time to contemplate what exactly the two were talking about as the Narnians charged into a clearing where a small battle raged. A company of Telmarines were attacking what appeared to be a group consisting of two Lynxes, three Black Foxes, a company of Mice…and another Telmarine. Peter had only enough time to associate the renegade Telmarine with Caspian's stableboy half-brother before he was on the enemy. Only once in the melee did he catch sight of Caspian and his brother fighting side by side.

The rush of Narnians quickly overwhelmed the Telmarines, and the battle was soon over. Caspian issued an order for retreat back to this How he had mentioned before, and the Narnians left swiftly. Peter's eyes roamed the company until he spotted his sisters, well and unharmed, and breathed out a sigh of relief. The group was soon far enough away from the battle site, and the Telmarines, that they could slow down and take stock of any injuries.

As they were doing so, Peter searched for Caspian. He found the Telmarine walking close to his half-brother, checking him for injuries and scolding him lightly. "When I said you could sabotage the bridge, you weren't supposed to bring the Telmarine soldiers _with _you!"

The brother shook his head, shoulder-length dark hair hitting his face as he did so. "The mission was successful; we just ran into small problem on the way back."

"Small problem!" exclaimed Caspian incredulously, but Peter was not paying attention to him. His mind was too busy trying to reconcile the voice he had just heard with what was before his eyes and the assumptions he had made. He did not even notice that he had stopped so suddenly that Glenstorm had only barely missed running into him. The shocking realization that this stableboy, this Telmarine who was supposedly Caspian's half-brother, this near _stranger_ was, in fact, _his own brother_ had Peter completely frozen.

This did not hold true for Lucy. "Edmund!" she cried as she recognized her missing brother, and launched herself at him with all the energy of a steam locomotive.

Edmund's eyes lit up, first with surprise then delight as he caught Lucy and held her tightly. "Lucy! What…ow, too tight, Lu, need to breathe."

Lucy squeezed him before only slightly loosening her hold. "Oh Edmund, we were so worried! You weren't on the beach with us and then we found Trumpkin and learned that there were Telmarines in Narnia and we didn't know where you were, but now we've found you and you _better_ not go disappearing on us again, understood?"

With a laugh, Edmund hugged his little sister again. "Understood. And I've missed you too. I didn't know where or when you would show up."

"Lucy!" stated Susan in mock exacerbation. Lucy giggled and let go of Edmund so Susan could hug him, though she stayed close by his side. Susan embraced her little brother tightly, her eyes watering in relief as her worry from the past few days met with comfort. As if sensing her distress, Edmund hugged her back just as tightly, not letting go until she did. Stepping back, Susan smiled brightly, her hand pulling on Edmund's too-long hair. "What's this then? Your hair's always grown fast, but this is ridiculous."

Edmund smirked. "Four months living among people who mostly believe in yearly haircuts will do that." He glared playfully at Caspian who just laughed.

Peter didn't laugh, though. Worry – _he spent four months living among Telmarines _– warred with jealousy – _why did _Edmund_ get four months in Narnia when I've only had a week. _Peter battled to keep his emotions in check. So when his three siblings turned to him, and Edmund stepped towards him with a smile on his face, Peter only asked, gruffly, "Are you alright?"

Edmund's smile faltered. "I…yes, I'm fine, Peter."

The High King nodded sharply, "Good," and began walking again in the same direction they had been headed before. The Narnians took that as the signal to keep moving and followed Peter. He did not turn back to see the looks that stared after him: not the anger in Susan's face, nor the hurt in Lucy's, or the confusion in Caspian's. Or the look of weary dejection that haunted Edmund's dark eyes; dejection that would seem familiar to Peter if he had spared a glance at his brother at all in the previous year.

~*~

As always, Edmund shoved his disappointment deep inside himself, turning his focus to how glad he was to see his siblings safe and whole. Neither of the girls seemed to want to go very far from his side and, frankly, Edmund felt much the same way. So as they traveled to Aslan's How, Edmund, the girls, and Caspian walked in a cluster, Peter walking a few feet ahead next to Glenstorm.

Lucy could barely contain her excitement, wanting to hear about Edmund's every move since they were separated. Edmund obliged, with Caspian filling in his side of the story, as well as details that Edmund would rather have glossed over (Edmund nearly walking into a Telmarine village while escaping, any instance in the past month when Edmund was nearly killed in the skirmishes against the Telmarines). After letting Susan fret and scold Edmund, and Caspian, for putting themselves in danger, Lucy regaled them with their own journey. Edmund grinned proudly when Susan interjected and told them how Lucy had beaten Trumpkin in the duel, and he blinked back tears when Lucy told him of their ruined home and handed him his golden chessman.

Soon enough, they were at the How. As they neared the entrance, as group of centaurs lined the walkway, swords drawn. Despite Edmund's questioning look, Caspian motioned for the Four Kings and Queens of Old to precede him, and the Pevensies, looking every bit the royalty they were, descended into the How beneath their people's salute.

Once inside Caspian took the lead in giving the others a tour of their base, Edmund only speaking up when he thought Caspian had overlooked something important. Susan, though, then noticed the paintings. The excitement over showing off the encampment faded to solemnity as the four Pevensies and Caspian walked slowly through the picture tunnel. "What is this place?" asked Lucy finally.

Edmund shook his head. "It's…easier just to show you." He led them quietly into the darkened Table Room. As Glenstorm had for him, Edmund lit the fire-trail, revealing the Stone Table. Even after nearly a month living at the How, just seeing the broken table brought a lump to Edmund's throat.

He watched as Lucy approached the table, resting a hand on its rough stone and staring up at the engraving of Aslan. She turned to Susan. "He must know what he's doing," she stated softly, as if quoting words said long ago.

Edmund's heart warmed at Lucy's determined faith, only to freeze at Peter's stiff reply. "I think it's up to us now."

The Just King stared at his brother. Surely he had heard wrong, taken Peter's words the wrong way. Surely the High King of Narnia had not just implied that they could not trust Aslan. Unfortunately, the hurt look on Lucy's face, the resigned agreement on Susan's, told Edmund that he had not been mistaken at all.

Before he could say anything, however, Peter stalked out of the room, a morose Susan following. Edmund turned to Caspian. The young king looked confused, and no wonder. For the past month Edmund had been guiding and teaching Caspian on what it meant to be a king, and every lesson began with the exhortation to trust Aslan in all things. Yet here was the High King himself proclaiming that they were going to free Narnia without any help from the Great Lion. Edmund sighed. "I'm sorry, Caspian. Peter's just…I told you he didn't take well to leaving Narnia. He'll come around." _I hope._

Caspian did not look so sure either, but he still heeded Edmund's silent plea and went after the elder Pevensies, leaving the younger two alone. Once he was gone, Edmund went over to Lucy who threw her arms around her brother. He had been sensing her upset for awhile, and by now he had guessed what, or rather who, was responsible. "Has he been this way the whole time?" Lucy nodded into his chest, and Edmund sighed again. Back in England, he and Lucy had often talked about the changes in their siblings, and their hope that Peter and Susan would return to normal once they got back to Narnia. Obviously that had not happened. "I'm sorry, Lu. I should have been there, if just to help you bear the brunt of it."

Lucy pulled back and the two siblings sat on the ground, leaning their backs against the comfort of the Stone Table. With her own sigh Lucy leaned her head on Edmund's shoulder. "I don't know if you being there would have made much of a difference. Peter hasn't been listening to anyone, and he and Susan would have found something else to fight about, rather than your disappearance."

Edmund knew she spoke truly – how many times had Peter actually listened to him in the past year? He could count the number on one hand, and still be able to snap his fingers. Still, it hurt to know that he was a cause of conflict between the older siblings. Edmund shook his head. "I was worried for you three, you know," he admitted. "Wandering around in a changed Narnia, with Telmarines roaming about. And I couldn't do anything to help you."

Lucy let out a rather harsh laugh. "_You_ were worried? At least we were together; for all we knew, you were alone, unarmed, and could run into Telmarines at any time. Susan was positively frantic with worry. I wasn't much better, though I tried to trust Aslan to protect you. And Peter…he didn't say much. But I know he had terrible nightmares. Not that he would admit it." She did not have to elaborate. Edmund was pretty sure he could guess their content.

Still. "The nightmares must not've been _that_ bad," Edmund muttered dejectedly. Peter's reaction at their meeting still stung.

Even Lucy could not defend Peter's actions. "He's so lost, Ed. Both of them are. I…I saw Aslan."

Edmund's head spun around and down to look at her in surprise and a little awe. "You did? When? What did he say? Why didn't you tell us before?"

Lucy would not look him in the eye. "It was at the River Rush. I saw him and I knew he wanted us to cross there. But none of the other saw him and…and they didn't think I had either! They thought I was seeing things!"

His heart went out to his little sister. It was so much like before Narnia, the first time, when none of them had believed that she had found a land in the wardrobe. Worse, because Peter and Susan at least should know to trust Lucy and, since Aslan is not a tame lion, they should realize that he might change the way he appeared to them. "Oh, Lu…"

"I don't think they trust Aslan anymore." And, oh how that thought hurt. "Susan won't believe what she doesn't see with her own eyes. And Peter is just so focused on being High King again and fixing everything himself, and he'll walk over anyone in his way. You should have seen how he acted towards the DLF – that's Trumpkin – and then how he was glaring at poor Caspian, as if he didn't deserve to clean his boots, let alone lead Narnians into battle."

Edmund had noticed that Peter was acting unreasonably cold to Caspian, but to hear Lucy describe it was too much. "Well, Peter better shape up," he growled, startling Lucy. "Caspian's a good kid, and has the potential to be a great king if Peter's attitude doesn't completely destroy everything I've been trying to teach him." To Edmund's surprise, Lucy _giggled_ at his words. "What?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

Lucy had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry. It's just, you're acting so protective of Caspian and it reminded me of what Trumpkin said."

"Do I want to know?" asked Edmund, warily.

The young queen smiled. "Well, when he saw you in the forest he didn't know who you were, and since Cornelius only told him that you were a royal stableboy, Trumpkin came to the conclusion, because you looked a bit like Caspian, that you were Caspian's illegitimate half-brother."

Edmund opened his mouth. Then shut it. Then opened it again. In all, he looked rather like a startled fish. Finally, he just shook his head and smiled. "He's as bad as some of the Telmarine stableboys. Though," he added thoughtfully, "he _is_ partly correct."

"What?" exclaimed Lucy, somewhat alarmed.

Now it was Edmund's turn to look sheepish. "Well, Caspian was being somewhat forlorn over not having a family. So I sort of told him he could be a part of ours."

Lucy grinned, and most of the rest of the dark mood hanging over them dissipated. "Oh, that's lovely! Of course he can be our honorary brother. Peter will get over it eventually, and I'm sure Susan will welcome him with open arms."

Edmund frowned. He had seen the slightly flirtatious looks Susan had been giving the young king, as well as Caspian's own starry-eyed gaze when he glanced at Susan. "That reminds me, Caspian and I need to have a little talk about something."

* * *

Er, Peter's character got a little of a beating in this chapter; mostly because I was in a really bad mood when I wrote it. I hope it's not too OOC.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

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* * *

  
**

Edmund managed to catch Caspian alone for a moment before supper, gently and pointedly reminding the king that it was not proper to flirt with one's sister, adopted or otherwise. And that it was particularly not healthy to flirt with a sister who had two other overly-protective brothers. Luckily Caspian took his advice, and his behavior towards Susan at dinner suitably reflected this.

That settled, now Edmund only had to worry about Peter's attitude. Dinner was fairly tense, as the royals traditionally ate separately from the other Narnians (Caspian had been confused by Glenstorm's insistence on this, until Edmund explained that the Narnians were trying to show their respect to their new king). Lucy and Edmund tried to hold up a conversation, but whenever Caspian was cajoled to speak, Peter would make some insulting remark that caused Caspian to grind his teeth in anger. Peter could not speak without Susan snapping at him, and Caspian was so dedicatedly trying to not flirt with Susan that he would not talk with her at all. It all resulted in a very quiet meal.

By the time dinner was over, Edmund was incredibly ready for his usual sparring practice with Caspian. In fact, he was frustrated enough to ignore Peter's glower as Edmund and Caspian left the group. Armed now with the Narnian sword that Lucy had returned to him, Edmund let out some of his anger on the sparring field, allowing Caspian to do the same.

After a time, they had tired themselves enough that they agreed to take a break. Downing some water, Caspian was the first to speak. "I do not think your brother likes me very much."

Edmund grimaced as he glanced across the field, where Glenstorm was showing Peter the training grounds. "He's…still getting used to being in this different Narnia. Remember, he's only had about a week to wrap his head around the fact that everything we knew is gone."

"_You_ never acted like this," commented Caspian in indignation.

Edmund did not really want to go into detail about Peter's actions and behavior since leaving Narnia a year before. Instead, he simply said to Caspian: "When I came, I didn't have to jump straight into a war. Plus, he doesn't know you from any other Telmarine: and he is none too fond of Telmarines."

Caspian seemed to hear what Edmund did not say: _And Peter doesn't believe, as Edmund, that Aslan wants Caspian to be king._ "He is not the High King that Doctor Cornelius told me about," he complained, almost bitterly. Edmund bit his lip; then his eyes lit up with mischief. Caspian eyed him warily. "That look usually ends with you doing something recklessly dangerous."

Edmund just grinned. "I have an idea. If you don't mind skipping training." Usually, after sparring, Edmund and Caspian would help each other learn their different fighting techniques. Caspian nodded his assent at missing this, and Edmund turned to look across the field. "Oi! Peter!" he shouted. The older boy looked away from Glenstorm to raise a questioning eyebrow. Edmund's grin broadened and he drew his sword, rotating it lazily in his hand. "Care to dance?"

Peter's eyes flickered between shock and pleasure. Edmund nearly shouted in delight when Peter smiled back and drew his own sword, walking over to them. "We'll need Lucy."

"Need me for what?" They turned as Lucy approached with Susan.

Edmund's eyes were practically twinkling now. "Dancing."

Lucy's face lit up. "Oh! Of course!" Edmund could practically see her mind going over the forms they could use without armor.

Susan did not look so excited. "Just…be careful."

Edmund flashed her a smile as he joined Peter in the sparring circle. "Of course." He took his place opposite Peter. "Think you can remember how to do this, old man?" Perhaps it was wicked of him, but, ever since Peter had found his first grey hair at the tender age of 24, Edmund tended to mock his brother's advanced age. Of course, Peter usually laughed and blamed his premature aging on Edmund and all the trouble the younger king got into. That is, he had until their ages reversed; the one time Edmund had called him 'old man' in England, Peter had practically bitten his head off.

Not now, though. Now Peter just smiled, and Edmund was cheered to see that it was a real smile. "Just wait, I'll show you what an old man can do, laddie."

Edmund's laughter was only partially hidden by his mock scowl.

~*~

Caspian watched with interest as the two kings took up positions, armed with one sword each and no shield. They stood utterly still for a moment; then Lucy shouted out "Tree Branch!" and they burst into motion in unison, striking out against each other. Caspian was not quite sure what Lucy's shout meant until she yelled again and, within an instant, the sparring kings changed fighting style.

Edmund lost himself in the dance, striking and blocking, moving his feet in steps remembered so easily from so long ago. Despite the fact that they were ostensibly fighting each other, in reality he and Peter were moving almost as one person. Each move was choreographed to the second, each strike having to hit steel at exactly the right time. Each change in fighting style had to be timed exactly when Lucy shouted the name of the next technique: one slip, one second off timing could mean a dangerous injury.

Despite the near perfection of their movements, Edmund could tell that Peter was still hesitant, slightly awkward. That was, until Lucy shouted out "Bear Claw". This style, all raw power and brute force, had always catered to Peter's strength, and was most similar to how the High King fought in battle. The moves seemed to spark some dormant part of Peter, the memory of a High King instead of the boy he had regressed to. The light came back to Peter's eyes…and Edmund smiled, for the High King had returned.

Caspian could not precisely pinpoint when the change occurred. One moment he had been watching two brothers spar playfully on the field. Within an instant, however, he blinked and suddenly there were two kings before him, strokes filled with strength to slay a giant, swords quivering from the force of each block. Caspian could not see the arrogant boy in this High King, could not see his friend in that royal warrior.

The change was obvious to others as well. Narnians slowly gathered in a circle around the dueling monarchs. Caspian vaguely noticed that Reepicheep was sitting on Suncloud's shoulder, practically falling off the centaur in excited agitation. The young king could not blame him; he himself was thinking, "_This_ is what I expected of the Kings of Old."

He continued to watch, awed, as Lucy called out two new forms. In fact, so intent was he in following the kings' movements that he almost missed seeing Susan and Lucy circling the pair, each holding a sword. Caspian realized their intent the moment Lucy called out "Swan Wings". The High King and his brother spun away from each other, pausing only long enough to catch the swords their sisters tossed to them before they continued their dance, now each bearing two swords.

The crowd murmured excitedly, but they had only a few moments to admire the slow, fluid movements of the style before Lucy shouted a change: "Winter Storm!"

If Caspian thought Bear Claw's brute force was impressive, it now paled in comparison. The Kings of Old fought faster than ever, their movements blurring together. The sun glinted off of four swords as they cut through the air, barely blocked before striking again. Just as Caspian was sure that the swords were moving too fast, that someone would slip, Lucy gave a final shout, "Halt!"

In a move that would make any general beam with pleasure, both kings stopped only mere seconds after the young queen's voice faded. After the fury of motion, their utter stillness made them look like statues, frozen with the High King's sword at his brother neck, the Just King striking at his liege's side, and both strokes blocked easily by the other. There was a pause of silence before the crowd erupted in a loud roar of approval and enthusiasm.

Edmund's chest heaved, his lungs desperate for air, and his body trembled from the adrenaline still coursing through it. A glance at Peter showed that the High King was in the same straights. But the pleased, light-hearted grin on Peter's face belayed any trouble, and Edmund felt that that smile was worth the inevitable muscle aches he would have come morning. "I can't believe we actually remembered all that," Edmund muttered.

Peter nudged him playfully with his shoulder. "Well, the number of times we went through that routine, I bet we could do it in our sleep."

Edmund gave him a mock glare. "The way _you_ move in your sleep, I wouldn't be surprised."

Before Peter could respond, Lucy bounded over to them. "Edmund, Peter, that was wonderful! It _is_ too bad you weren't wearing any armor, though I suppose the others wouldn't know what to think if you had really let loose."

It was then the two kings realized that they had gathered quite an awed audience. As if on cue, the Narnians converged on them, exclaiming over their abilities and peppering them with questions. Laughing, the kings could barely get a word in and never really answered anything in the end. Finally, the crowd dispersed some under Susan's gentle glare and insistence that her brothers needed rest. And air.

Of course, no sooner had the Narnians drifted away than Caspian finally gathered his wits enough to approach the kings. "That was…amazing!" came his rather unoriginal comment.

Edmund was glad to see that Peter was still smiling, despite Caspian's presence. "Thanks. It's a routine we learned early in our reign. It was hard for any visiting dignitaries to dismiss us as 'just children' when Susan _happened_ to tour them past the training yard during a performance."

Caspian's eyes were still wide in amazement, much like those of the visiting dignitaries had been all those years ago. "I can see why. I would not like to go up against someone who could fight like _that_."

Edmund shrugged. "It took a lot of practice, didn't it Peter?"

The High King nodded. "I think Orieus had us go over it several times a day for nearly a year before he let us actually perform it for an audience."

"And even then he started us with the easier forms."

Caspian grinned at his friend. "Well, I am certainly impressed, as were the others I think. Do you think you could teach me some of it, Ed?"

Edmund's heart sank as he watched Peter's smile turn brittle. His cold attitude was nearly palpable in the aftermath of the exhilaration of the dance. He wasn't quite sure what brought the change on, but this was not the time to interrogate his brother. Edmund fixed a smile on his face to answer Caspian. "I'm not sure we'd have enough time to go through all of the forms. Maybe a few of the simpler ones."

"It will take longer than we have to teach him right now," snapped Peter.

Caspian frowned, obviously sensing the High King's hostility. "Ed has taught me a few of the Old Forms already. I am a quick learner."

"That's yet to be proven," Peter practically sneered, "seeing as you haven't even learned how to address a king properly."

Caspian stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "I address my _fellow kings_ as equals."

Peter matched Caspian's glare. "A throne stolen by your ancestors doesn't make you a king."

Any retort a furious Caspian might have made was cut short as Edmund grabbed Peter's arm and dragged him out of earshot of the fuming Telmarine and their wide-eyed sisters. "Enough, Peter! Caspian is not his ancestors; he did _not _steal any throne. And, for your information, _I_ was the one who first proclaimed him a Narnian king."

Peter turned his glare on his brother. "You had no right to do that."

Edmund shook his head. "Perhaps not, but _you_ don't have the right to say he's _not_ a king. Only Aslan can do that." Edmund bit back a sigh at the hurt and angry look that crossed Peter's face when Aslan was mentioned. The younger king softened his voice. "Look, Peter. You're tired; you've had a long week, and I'm sure you haven't been sleeping well. I know I didn't the first few weeks back. Go, wash up, and have Trufflehunter show you to our room."

"You're trying to order me to bed?" asked Peter incredulously.

"No, I'm trying to tell you that you need to rest. We all do." Edmund decided to play his trump card. "Please, Peter? You know the girls are more likely to agree to rest if we are as well, and I know Lucy is running low on steam."

Peter frowned, but could not overcome his propensity for being overprotective of his sisters' physical well-being. "Fine," he growled before storming away.

Edmund watched him disappear into the How before turning on a still-glowering Caspian. "Stop letting him get a rise out of you, Caspian, or he'll never respect you!"

"Right now I do not see why I should care if he does or not," replied Caspian in angry frustration.

Edmund gave Caspian a fierce glare which seemed to startle the Telmarine. "You should care because, whether you like it or not, Peter is High King of Narnia, so appointed by Aslan." Edmund would have said more, but Lucy placed a hand on his arm. Reading her intention in her eyes, Edmund nodded and turned to Susan. "Come on, Su. Let's let Caspian alone to wash up, and I'll show you where you and Lucy will sleep."

Susan seemed to sense what Edmund was doing. "Alright, that sounds like a good idea." As the two walked back to the How, Susan leaned closer to her brother, hissing a whisper in his ear. "And you, my dear brother, can tell me why Caspian is trying to ignore my very existence."

Edmund groaned.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

After giving Lucy a curt nod, Caspian stormed over to the small stream that flowed near the How. The cold water on his face didn't seem to help, so Caspian removed his leather armor and his shirt, getting ready to slip into the cool water.

"Edmund's right, you know."

Caspian nearly fell in the stream as he whirled around, giving a small yelp of surprise. Lucy had apparently followed him and was now sitting calmly on a nearby rock. The girl-queen was looking at him with an amused smile, and Caspian became acutely aware of his shirtless-ness. Unfortunately, his flustered state led him to get fairly tangled in his shirt, as he hastily attempted to don it. After a short struggle – which the shirt nearly won – Caspian triumphed and bowed to Lucy, his face flushed red. "Your majesty…."

"Lucy," she corrected with a pleasant smile.

Caspian matched Lucy's smile; he was not completely immune to the Valiant Queen's calming presence. "Lucy. May I ask what you mean by 'Edmund's right'?"

Lucy simply said, "He's right that you shouldn't react to Peter's baiting."

Caspian felt his irritation rise again. "That is difficult when he treats me as if I am worth less than the dirt beneath his feet," he snapped, feeling slightly guilty as he did so. Lucy had done nothing to deserve his anger, after all.

The young queen did not seem hurt by his anger. Instead a rather determined look stole over her face. Lucy straightened, her aura that of a grown queen, her eyes showing years he body did not. "I do not condone Peter's actions," she prefaced softly," but it _is_ true that you are worth less than the dirt beneath his feet." Caspian gaped, astonished that she would say something so cruel. Lucy, picking up a handful of dust, elaborated. "This," she said, sprinkling the dust into the breeze, "is Narnia. It's the land we've fought and bled for, that _you_ are now fighting for. As a king, you have to be willing to _die_ for this earth, for its people."

Understanding dawned on Caspian, and he lowered his head in chagrin. "Lesson Four," he said in a soft voice."

Lucy's brow furrowed. "What?"

Caspian gave her a sheepish smile. "Edmund has been trying to teach me how to be a king. Lesson Four was 'A king must hold his life as worth less than the life of the lowliest of his subjects'."

"That certainly sounds like something Edmund would do," Lucy laughed.

Caspian shrugged ruefully. "It is a good lesson. Though, at the time, I was more upset that he had nearly gotten himself killed again. He tends to do that remarkably often."

Lucy's giggles turned into a sigh. "_That_ sounds like Edmund, also. He does seem to get into trouble a lot. It's rather frustrating to those of us who care about him"

A silence settled for a moment, as the two were lost in their separate memories of Edmund nearly following Lesson Four to its furthest point. Lucy had more years of memory, but Caspian still held his fresh in his mind. For in only making small raids, and for less than a month at that, Edmund had put his life at high risk an astonishing number of times. Some of which Caspian had related previously, on the journey to the How. The queens, he remembered, had been rather shaken at the thought of their brother in danger of his life. _Not so_, he thought darkly, _King Peter. _"It is too bad the _High King_ does not seem to care so about his brother," Caspian muttered aloud.

Lucy's dark glare startled him. "Don't you _dare_ say that, Caspian! Peter cares more about Edmund than he cares about the breath in his own body!"

"That is hard to believe," declared Caspian hotly. "He heard every word of the danger Edmund has been in, and barely blinked his eyes! And he certainly does not care how his words have been worse than any weapon." Caspian paced to the edge of the stream and back, almost growling in frustration. "Even only knowing him for a short while, it is clear that Edmund would do anything for Peter, even die if he must. But in just a day since you arrived, I have seen Peter treat his brother with nothing but coldness; disdain even. And I have come to understand, by the frustration and grief I see when Edmund talks about his brother, that Peter has done so for quite some time. That is _not _the action of a loving brother!"

His rant finished, Caspian gave Lucy a fierce look, daring her to contradict his words. He watched as Lucy bit her lip in thought. After a moment she spoke, careful in her speech. "You're right in saying that Peter shouldn't be acting like this." His sense of vindication didn't last long as Lucy continued. "But Caspian, despite the fact that you're our brother now – yes, Ed told me about that – despite this, you haven't quite learned about how relationships between siblings work. You see, right now Peter's hurting; and when he hurts, he doesn't disassociate himself like Susan, or ignore it like Edmund. Peter lashes out. And because we, as his siblings, are closest to him, we end up with the brunt of his anger. Especially Edmund, because they are the closest of all of us. Peter is relying on the fact that Edmund will bear all his anger and hurt, and still love and follow him; since that's what siblings do."

Caspian shook his head. "It's still not right."

"No, it's not." Lucy's eyes shone with worry. "And I'm afraid for the day Peter realizes how much he's hurt Edmund. Because Peter is liable to murder anyone who dares harm his brother; and knowing that it's _him _who hurt Edmund…it could kill him."

Despite the fear in her voice, Caspian was not moved by Lucy's words. Frankly, he thought Peter _deserved_ to be punished for treating his brother so badly, for taking Edmund's love for granted. _I would not do that_, he thought with determination. _A brother should not hurt his brother, and I will not! I will not hurt Edmund as Peter has._ However, Caspian knew Lucy would not appreciate his thoughts. So he organized his features into a polite mask and said, "I will think on your words, Lucy. Pray, excuse me."

Lucy watched Caspian walk away and sighed, having seen right through the mask. She looked out over the stream. "_Please_ come, Aslan. This is all going to fall apart soon. And I'm scared, Aslan. I'm scared because I don't know if we can survive that."

~*~

Face and neck freshly washed, Peter composedly followed Trufflehunter as he lumbered through the tunnels. The badger was right at home as they walked, chattering at Peter and reiterating his pleasure at meeting the High King. To his credit, Peter kept his features in a stoic mask, despite his inner agitation; the High King let slip only the slightest frown when Trufflehunter showed him to a small cavern and told him, "I am sorry that there is not enough room to give you your own quarters, Your Majesty, but there should be enough space in King Edmund and King Caspian's quarters for you. I believe King Edmund even had the room set up when you arrived."

Peter politely thanked Trufflehunter, waiting until the badger had waddled out of sight before entering the cavern. Three mattresses, similar to those which Peter remembered from previous campaigns, lay next to each other in the small space. Peter scowled as he realized that Edmund had had his own things moved to the center mattress, separating the two older kings. In a fit of annoyance, Peter shoved Edmund's things to the left-hand mattress and flopped himself onto the center bed.

Resting his neck on one arm, the High King of Narnia stared at the cave's ceiling and sulked. The feeling of contentment and fulfillment that Peter previously held while sparing had disappeared completely, replaced by familiar fury and upset. That he had been unreasonably rude to Caspian never came to Peter's mind; he thought only of how Edmund, _his brother_, had defended the upstart Telmarine against him.

If he was honest to himself, Peter might have realized that his anger at Caspian came not from any righteous fury for Telmarines crimes, but from his own personal jealousy and fear. He had not truly been angry that a Telmarine sought to steal yet more of Narnia – her styles of fighting – but, in fact, was lashing out at a boy who dared call _Peter's_ little brother 'Ed'. No one save Peter and his sisters ever called Edmund by his shortened name. That Caspian should be so familiar with Edmund, and then have Edmund protect the Telmarine instead of following Peter as he had before when the eldest Pevensie lashed out…It made Peter's heart uneasy.

Despite his best efforts at redirecting the source of his ire, Peter could not shut out his inner voice, which whispered his fears into the falling night. An inner voice that sounded very much like Lucy. For all his anger, for all his silent ranting – _Stupid Telmarine. Stupid Edmund, how _dare_ he proclaim that upstart a king! How _dare_ he act like he has more authority than I do! _– Peter could not beat back the memory of Lucy's voice"

'Be careful, though, Peter. Push him away too much, and you may really lose him.'

With a scowl, Peter turned on his side. He wasn't pushing Edmund away! Edmund _knew_ that Peter had to be in control, show this Telmarine who was _High_ King of Narnia. _And anyway, _Edmund_ is the one who is following Caspian instead of me!_

'…you may really lose him."

If Peter's frustrated growl sounded more like sob, there was no one in the darkness to hear.

~*~

Edmund waited until Lucy arrived to escape from Susan's clutches. Despite his older sister's annoyance at yet another potential suitor dissuaded, she had at least accepted his reasons and, cautiously, accepted Caspian into the family. In fact, by the time Lucy showed up, Edmund almost saw the real Susan peek through her English-girl exterior, saw the Gentle Queen appear in Susan's face. Particularly when she insisted on washing his face and trimming his hair.

Unfortunately, it seemed Lucy had not been as successful in her mission. She didn't say anything when she entered, only shook her head sadly and hugged him goodnight. Edmund thought of speaking to her, but Susan, her mothering nature again taking over, began fussing over Lucy. So Edmund bid his sisters goodnight and headed to his own bed.

One look as he entered showed that Peter was fast asleep…on Edmund's mattress. Caspian, settling into the right-hand mattress and as far as possible from the High King, smiled at Edmund and nodded his own goodnight. Edmund let out a breath and resignedly lay down on the bed he had intended for Peter. He had hoped to keep the two older boys separated, if only to prevent the violence bound to occur when Peter kicked Caspian in his sleep. At the moment, though, Edmund was frustrated enough with both of them, and just plain tired, that he, frankly, didn't really care anymore.

With night barely risen, Edmund followed his brother and friend into sleep. Despite the fact that Edmund was a heavy sleeper, those who knew him would not have been surprised that he roused slightly when Peter jerked awake from a nightmare. Barely coherent, Edmund would not remember reaching out a hand to his brother, a habit born of long years of battle and campaigns. In fact, he fell asleep again as soon as Peter squeezed his hand in reassurance. Therefore, Edmund never saw the tear that Peter hastily wiped away, nor did he see his brother clench his blanket until his knuckles went white. He did not hear Peter whisper "Don't leave me, Ed. Please, don't leave me."

Edmund knew none of this. All he knew was that, when he woke the next morning, the mattress next to him was empty and the room was cold as ice.

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	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

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Lucy's face was grim as she surveyed the gathered war council from her seat on the Stone Table. That, in itself, showed the bad start to this council; Lucy would not have dared to sit on that sacred place, but for the fact that Peter seemed about ready to spread battle plans on it. The Stone Table was not a pile of rocks to plan a war on! So Lucy had leapt to her current place, hoping that her movement would remind Peter of who was really the True King of Narnia. It didn't seem to.

As the preliminary small discussion began, Lucy sighed. The warning from the guard that the How had been discovered by the Telmarines had spurred the whole encampment into a flurry of confused action. Then Peter had called this war council, before even having his usual pre-council planning session with Edmund and Lucy. So now they were going into council with little idea of what option was going to be presented.

All in all, it was not an auspicious start.

_At least,_ thought Lucy,_ Edmund insisted on a double-voice approach._ It had been the source of another low, terse argument between the brothers. Peter had assumed they would use the usual one-voice approach – where Peter introduced the plan and Edmund backed him with his mostly unspoken agreement – but this idea was quashed by Edmund when he pulled his older brother aside. Only Lucy had heard Edmund's fierce insistence that he would speak for himself in council, since Peter had not seen fit to discuss the plan he was supposed to agree to. Not to mention that Edmund had a better idea of the capabilities of their forces.

Now Edmund stood near Peter, Caspian by his side. Susan sat on a rock opposite them, her eyes passing between the blond and dark-haired kings, her forehead creased. Peter, though, did not seem to notice the tension, or at least seemed not to care…not when he was bursting with his brilliant plan.

"It's only a matter of time. Miraz's men and war-machines are on their way." Peter's smug, proud expression looked so wrong to Lucy, especially when compared to the face of the High King she remembered. "That means those same men aren't protecting his castle."

The Chief Mouse, Reepicheep, asked what Peter proposed to do. Lucy shut her eyes when both Peter and Caspian began replying to the Mouse's address to 'Sire'. She opened her eyes to see the two flaring at each other, neither backing down.

Which left Edmund room to jump in. "Unless I miss my guess, I'm thinking you mean to make a surprise attack on the Beaversdam Castle." Lucy could see Edmund musing over the plan in his head. He had always been good at strategy, and Lucy knew he was quickly going through the strengths and weaknesses of such a plan.

Peter gave Edmund a wary smile, their previous argument perhaps still fresh in his mind. "Exactly. You've done well with sneak attacks so far. It's time to go straight for an end game."

Caspian did not seem so enthused. "That is crazy. No one has ever taken that castle."

Peter gave him a patronizing smirk. "There's always a first time."

While Caspian glared, Trumpkin gave his approval. "It could work. We'll have the element of surprise."

Caspian shook his head. "But we have the advantage _here._ We can make them attack _us_, on our own ground."

"If we dig in," spoke Susan cautiously, "we could probably hold them off indefinitely." Lucy was not surprised to hear Susan agree with Caspian. If they could withhold a siege instead of a direct war, the Gentle Queen would prefer that option.

Peter's eyes went hard, though, and Lucy watched as he turned to take his anger at this defection out on Caspian. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief when Edmund stepped forward, between the two older kings, and gave his own opinion. "Both options have their merits. We know this land better than the Telmarines, giving us the advantage." Caspian's pleased smirk did not last long. "However, I don't think we can win a siege. The How was not built as a fortress, but as a place of reverence. I don't think it could withstand heavy bombardment very long. And it would be too easy for Miraz to starve us out." Edmund looked at Peter. "Caspian and I know that castle well. With the right plan, we could pull off an infiltration offensive."

This time, Peter's smile was more genuine as he turned to Glenstorm. "If I can get the troops in, can you handle the guards?"

Glenstorm flicked his eyes over to Caspian, who seemed to be holding his own silent conversation with Edmund. Though obviously reluctant, Lucy watched as Caspian gave his nod of consent to the centaur. Glenstorm turned back to an expectant Peter. "Or die trying, my liege."

Peter's triumphant smile chilled Lucy's heart and she knew she had to speak. "That's what I'm worried about." Peter looked at her, confused, and asked what she meant. "Well, you're acting like there are only two options: dying here, or dying there." She needed Peter to understand! However good the plan was, it was no end game without Aslan's blessing. They really _would_ die trying!

"I'm not sure you've really been listening, Lu."

That was annoying. How many times had she been to, and spoken in, war councils? Still, it wasn't time for her to make that point. She had a more important one to make. "No, _you're_ not listening. Or have you forgotten who _really_ defeated the White Witch, Peter."

She watched as Peter stiffened, and her heart sank. "I think we've waited for Aslan long enough," he snapped angrily before stalking away, proud head high.

The council was quiet, with several of the more devout Narnians – including Lucy and Edmund – wide-eyed with shock. Luckily, Edmund was able to speak up and salvage the situation. The young king moved to the middle of the room, standing near his younger sister. "We have fought many battles without Aslan physically present. But as my royal sister reminds us, we have never entered battle without seeking his blessing. We will have a solid plan by tonight, one that we trust to succeed. Lion willing, we will prevail in this battle, and in this war."

~*~

Edmund considered it a testament to the patience he had learned when ruling Narnia that he was able to speak calmly to Peter as they sat in a small room, planning the attack. Caspian had excused himself quickly, still unhappy about the plan and Edmund's approval of it. Susan had followed: she told them she would be fighting instead of Lucy (who would lead the Narnians remaining at the How) but Susan always preferred being told what to do instead of dwelling on the details. Lucy, Edmund knew, had remained in the Stone Table room, heart hurting too much to help them.

Which left Edmund to plan out the attack with Peter alone, his own heart still hurting at Peter's public repudiation of Aslan. He kept his emotions in check, as always, and he and his brother flung ideas back and forth. Edmund almost allowed himself to pretend that all was as it had been before: two brother-generals planning a great victory.

In fact, the plan was actually quite a good one. The griffins would fly in a small strike force, guided in by Susan who would be deposited by a griffin on the forward tower with Edmund's torch. Peter had wanted Edmund in the tower, as the first in the castle, but Edmund reasoned that they needed him in the castle proper since he knew the layout; besides, Susan could do more with her bow from a height.

The rest of the strike force – Peter, Edmund, Caspian, and Trumpkin – would split up, with the latter two meeting with Reepicheep and his Mice to open the gate for the waiting Narnian army. While the Narnians came through the city and into the castle, Peter and Edmund would sneak into the royal chamber and capture Miraz. It would require precision in timing and execution, but was feasible.

But for one thing. Edmund gently grabbed Peter's arm as he was about to leave and deliver the finished plan. "Peter, if this doesn't go off exactly right, it won't work."

Peter furrowed his brown. "And?"

"_And_," emphasized Edmund, "if something goes wrong, anything at all, we need to call a retreat."

Peter frowned. "Nothing is going to go wrong."

"It will if we don't depend on Aslan." Again, the pained frown on Peter's face. Edmund bit the inside of his lip before sighing. "Peter, I trust you, I always have. And I trust you now that you will lead this battle well." While Edmund might have his own misgivings, might be worried about Peter's lack of faith, he could not believe that Peter was so far gone that he could not lead as he always had.

And in Edmund's firm declaration, a little bit of the High King returned to Peter's eyes. "Thanks, Ed," he replied softly and, for a moment, things were as they should be.

~*~

Evening was falling the next day as the strike force made their final preparations. While a current of tense excitement rolled through the How, Edmund felt only helpless frustration. As had been his custom during his rule, and in the time since his return, Edmund had wished to gather with his fellow monarchs to pray for Aslan's blessing in battle. Unlike his previous experiences, though, this time he had no success in gaining support.

Peter, as Edmund mostly expected, had not dignified his request with an answer, just a look that told Edmund all he need to know. Susan had pursed her lips, and Edmund could practically see her inward struggle. He knew he had lost when one of the fauns came up and asked for Susan's advice on one thing or another. With a relieved apology to her brother, Susan disappeared into the gathering force.

Most disappointing was Caspian's response. Edmund knew Caspian had never been very comfortable when they had prayed before previous missions. Edmund had hoped that Caspian would grow to see its importance, that the young man would pray from faith instead of from obedience to the practices of his friend. Now, though, it seemed Caspian felt that showing his presence to the Narnians, competing with Peter for attention, was more important. As Edmund watched Caspian walk away, he saw a month of teaching and four months of friendship and trust begin to disintegrate.

So it was that Edmund stood in the Stone Table room, empty of life except for himself and Lucy. The young queen took his hand as they stood before the Table. For a moment neither spoke. Then came Lucy's soft voice. "Don't go, Edmund."

He looked down at her in surprise. "Lu?"

Lucy's eyes were filled with worry. "You expect this to go badly, don't you? That's why you told me after council that you didn't want me coming with you."

Edmund looked away, unable to face the truth in her gaze. "Expect, no. It's a strategically good plan. But if it _does_ go wrong…" he looked at her again, his face grave. "Lucy, you're the strongest of us. If, Aslan forbid, we don't make it back, you're the best choice to lead the remaining Narnians."

He watched Lucy choke back a sob at the thought of her siblings not returning. "Don't go, Edmund," she repeated, voice wavering. "Stay here with me."

"Lucy…"

She shook her head fiercely to cut him off, eyes blinking back tears. "I…I don't think Aslan will bless this mission. Not when Peter and Susan and Caspian refuse to trust him. They won't heed his guidance, which can never end well. Please, Ed, don't go along with this!"

Edmund felt his heart constrict at his little sister's plea. He always tried to trust her insight when it came to Aslan. In this, though… "I'm sorry, Lu." Oh, how he hated when her face crumbled like that! "You know I have to follow Peter; I can't betray him by leaving his side, especially if you're right about his vulnerability apart from Aslan's blessing." His reassuring smile didn't seem to help. "Besides, we can pray that my faith in Aslan, and that of the Narnians, will be enough. I trust Aslan to guide me; and I can rein in the others."

Though Lucy did not seem quite so convinced, she gave him an accepting nod, and a hug for good measure. Then, in silent agreement, they both turned to face the Stone Table and the carving of Aslan, and knelt.

Lost in the records of Narnia is that each King and Queen of Old had their own particular way of kneeling in prayer and obedience to Aslan. Peter went to one knee, forehead pressed against the pommel of his drawn sword. Proper Susan always knelt on both knees, body held straight. She would press her palms together, fingers pointing down as she bowed her head in reverence.

Lucy was never so formal. Though she too knelt on both knees, she would sit back on her heels, clasping her hands in her lap. Most peculiarly, Lucy would close her eyes, like the others, but would tilt her head upward and to the side. She once told her siblings that she did so because she could never make herself picture Aslan as below her so that she would have to look down to see him. He was always before and above her.

Edmund never told anyone why he prayed and knelt as he did, though most guessed. Like Peter, he knelt on one knee. He never held a drawn sword, though. His arms he kept hanging at his side, his left hand grasping the pommel of his sheathed sword, if it was there, to show that it could not be drawn. Unlike Lucy, Edmund always bowed. Not just his head, but the entire top of his body leaned forward, clearly exposing the back of his neck. The posture seemed odd to any who had not been at Cair Paravel the second year of the reign of the Four Sovereigns. It had been the only time the Four had been forced to execute a Narnian – in this case, a human originally from the Lone Islands – for treason. The man had knelt in such a way before the executioner as he waited for the strike of the axe; from that time on, Edmund held firm to the way he knelt before Aslan.

And so he knelt now, Lucy beside him, as he prayed aloud. "Aslan, bless this mission we now embark on. Guide our blades in defense of our people and land. Stay our hands from unjust vengeance. Protect our life and those of our family and people. Return us all in safety. We pray you give us wisdom and clarity of mind; guide our actions. May all honor and glory be given only to thee. Let it be so."

At his end, Lucy gave her own, simple prayer. "Aslan, please protect all who leave, and bring them safely home. I ask no more than this. Let it be so."

Prayer finished, the two siblings solemnly rose. With one last hug, Edmund whispered a hoarse good-bye to his sister, who could not speak through the lump in her throat. Instead, Lucy watched as her brother left the room, leaving her alone with her silent plea:

_Please, come home._

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If you're wondering about the different genuflections, take a look at the scene where Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Caspian kneel before Aslan at the Ford of Beruna (particularly the back view for Edmund). That's where I took the images from, except for Lucy.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

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As most plans do, the Narnian's started out well. Susan landed in perfect position to guide the others in with the light of the torch, as well as take out any enemy below her. Peter, Edmund, Caspian, and Trumpkin landed almost unnoticed, and easily got rid of anyone in their way. Climbing down from the walls, the four Narnians entered through the window of Doctor Cornelius's room.

It was then that the plan began wavering. Finding the professor missing, and his room overturned, Caspian declared that he had to save his friend and mentor. Peter was none too happy with this. "You don't have time! You and Trumpkin have to get to the gatehouse."

Caspian glared at Peter. "You wouldn't even be here without him. And neither would I." He looked to Edmund, eyes pleading. "I can't leave him."

Edmund hesitated. He knew that it would be dangerous to allow any deviation from the plan. Still, he owed Doctor Cornelius as much as Caspian did. And, if the attack went sour and they had to retreat…Edmund shuddered inwardly. He couldn't leave Cornelius to face the Telmarines' wrath further. Uneasy though he still was, Edmund added his voice to Caspian's argument. "The dungeons aren't that far away." He was not just saying that either, since one of the first things Edmund always did when infiltrating an enemy encampment was locate the holding cells and figure a way out of them, in case it ever came in handy.

Caspian looked relieved at Edmund's support. "And I can still make it to the gatehouse in time." Peter seemed close to forbidding it, despite the argument, but Edmund caught his brother's eyes with his own. Edmund knew he was showing some vulnerability due to his empathy with Cornelius's situation, and he knew Peter could see it. He watched as Peter's face tightened and he nodded his assent to Caspian. The young Telmarine quickly ran off, Trumpkin following as the dwarf headed for the gatehouse as planned.

Peter turned to his brother. "Ed…"

Edmund shook his head and began walking. "Come on, the royal chambers are this way," he said gruffly. Now was not the time to talk about Edmund's weakness.

~*~

Despite Edmund's knowledge of the castle layout, their progress was slow. The brothers were forced several times to stop and hide from passing sentries. A sense of further unease grew in Edmund. He didn't like what the number of sentries indicated concerning the number of soldiers at the castle. _Please let it be because Miraz is paranoid, and not because there are more soldiers available to be sentries._

Finally, and after a much longer time than Edmund would have liked, they reached Miraz's chamber. He frowned as they stood at the door. Were those voices he heard? He and Peter exchanged glances, both now prepared to fight the moment they stepped into the room. At Edmund's silent count Peter flung open the door and they dashed inside, weapons ready.

What they found was not what they were expecting. Miraz stood by his bed, a menacing figure even in nightclothes. In front of him, holding Miraz at swordpoint, stood Caspian, his eyes blazing with anger and grief. More worrying, though, was the crossbow that Lady Prunaprismia, sitting up in bed, held pointed at Caspian. Miraz looked at the new intruders with exasperation in his face.

"This used to be a private room." Edmund had to give the man credit; he certainly didn't act concerned about the sharp steel currently resting against his neck.

Peter, moving slowly towards Prunaprismia, glowered at Caspian. "What do you think you're doing? You're supposed to be at the gatehouse!"

Edmund held back a grimace as Peter unintentionally informed Miraz that they had a need for opening the gate. Not to mention he did not think Caspian would react well to Peter's accusing attitude.

He was right.

"No! Tonight, for once, I want the truth!" Caspian glared at his uncle. "Did you kill my father?"

_Oh, this could be bad_. One thing Edmund learned early on was that Caspian tended to be particularly oversensitive about his father. Though Caspian had been very young when Caspian IX died, he still apparently idolized his father. Which Edmund understood well, but it was going to lead into all sorts of problems if he didn't do something soon. As Prunaprismia looked at her husband in confusion at the accusation, and Miraz bragged about the Telramines taking what they wanted, Edmund sheathed his sword.

"Ed!"

He heard Peter's shout, but ignored his brother's implied negative command. Holding his hands out in a placating gesture, Edmund moved slowly towards Caspian and Miraz. Prunaprismia was now lowering her crossbow, stunned at the revelation that her husband was a fratricide. Edmund knew he needed to fully placate her if they were going to get out of this. "Caspian, this is not the time to deal out judgment. Remember, we came here to _capture_ Miraz; we have no intention of killing him." Edmund hoped that his words, while aimed at reminding Caspian of the plan, would reassure Prunaprismia of their honorable intention. He walked behind Caspian, skirting slowly around a chair so that he could approach Miraz without going near the Lady and making her nervous. "This can end without anyone getting hurt."

For a moment, Edmund thought he had gotten through. Unfortunately, Miraz knew well how to manipulate his wife's emotions. "Yes, let us trust the word of a _Narnian_. Let us trust that the savages will let us live after they have gotten their use out of us. Let us _trust_ that they will leave this room and not cast our son from the walls!"

The next few moments happened in a blur. Prunaprismia let out a scream that was more of a sob as she let fly a bolt from the crossbow. Edmund saw it graze Caspian's arm, but had no time to pause and check, as Miraz had used the confusion to dash for a hidden doorway. Edmund darted after him, jumping to tackle the usurper even as the door slammed shut behind them.

The tackle went wide as Miraz twisted away. Grabbing an off-balanced Edmund's neck, Miraz shoved the young king against the wooden door. Edmund's head snapped backwards, bashing itself on the hard wood. Pain flashed through his head and down his spine, and black spots blinded his vision as he sank to the floor. By the time he blinked them away and began moving past the pain, he could only glimpse Miraz disappearing down the hallway.

As he pulled himself to his feet, Edmund grew aware of the shouts from behind the door: Peter, yelling his name. There was not time to try and find a lever to open the passage. There was no time for anything. "Peter, I'll try and get him. You need to _fall back_." If they could at least capture Miraz, even if they couldn't take the castle, the raid could still be salvaged.

He could hear the frown in Peter's stern, "Edmund…" but ignored it.

"Go!" Edmund yelled, before sprinting down the hall after Miraz.

~*~

Despite a pounding headache, Edmund could still run fast, especially since the air in Narnia had restored much of the vigor and muscle memory from when he had been an adult. Therefore, he was able to make up Miraz's head start fairly quickly. Sword drawn, Edmund moved for a final lunge that would allow him to threaten Miraz into submission…only to be stopped by the blade of General Glozelle.

Telmarine general and Narnian king stilled, each waiting for the other to make the first move. His eyes never leaving his opponent, Edmund still saw Miraz's smirk as he came up behind his soldier. "Take care of him," Miraz ordered, his intention clear, before making good his escape.

As the two soldiers began circling each other, alarm bells began ringing. With that, Edmund knew their attack had failed. The element of surprise was gone, Miraz escaped, and Peter would be ordering the retreat. _Aslan, please help them escape safely_, he prayed, knowing he would have to find some way to escape this fight and reach one of the griffins who were waiting in reserve.

Right now, though, Edmund could only watch for General Glozelle's move. He had grown to know the Telmarine, who had, after the initial suspicious meeting, even came to trust Edmund with Caspian's safety. That was before Glozelle had changed from Caspian's guard to his attempted murderer; before Glozelle chose to be loyal to Miraz instead of the boy he had been entrusted to protect. It saddened Edmund, actually, since he believed Glozelle to be a good man at heart, and might have come to consider him a friend. But Glozelle's choices now led the two to be on opposing sides, swords drawn against each other.

The Telmarine glared at the younger boy. "I had thought you just left out of loyalty to a friend," Was that regret in Glozelle's voice? "But you are no mere stableboy by your stance. Where do you hail from? Archenland?" Obviously he thought Edmund was some foreign spy. Well, Edmund would have to disabuse him of that notion.

"I am a Narnian."

Glozelle frowned. "Narnians are beasts, not humans."

Even though he knew Glozelle spoke out of ignorance, Edmund growled in anger at the slander of his people. "Narnians do not order the death of family, nor do we wage a war of slaughter to achieve glory, sacrificing lives for _politics_. If that is human, then let us be Beasts!" With those words, Edmund attacked and the fight began.

~*~

The duel was not as lop-sided as perhaps General Glozelle was expecting. Glozelle was older and, presumably, more practiced; he had the advantage of his size and strength. Edmund, though, could use his smaller size and his speed to dodge the general's heavy blows. That, along with his training and experience, meant that Edmund could easily hold his own as the two fought.

Despite the quick strikes and parries, and the need for fast footwork, Edmund managed to guide their fight towards the end of the hall and an open door that led out onto the walls. The open-air battlements allowed for more maneuverability, a plus for Edmund's evading fighting style. Breathing hard with exertion, Edmund still felt confident that he could at least stall the general long enough for a griffin to notice his straights.

His confidence shattered as he glanced into the courtyard below, distracted by the impossible clamor of battle. His heart plummeted as he realized his ears were not deceived. Edmund stared as he watched Narnians fight Telmarines, saw Susan in her tower desperately trying to take out crossbowmen before they could slaughter her people. He saw Peter in the midst of the chaos, fighting like a madman instead of a king. Fighting when he should have already retreated from the castle. _Peter, what are you doing!_

Glozelle took advantage of his distraction to stab at the young king. Edmund barely lifted his sword in time to block, his mind still screaming, still denying that his brother had brought their army into what could only be a massacre. Anger rising, Edmund shouted and turned his fury on the Telmarine general. His strikes were harder, steel ringing as the swords clashed loudly. Glozelle seemed to waver under this new ferociousness. Edmund could only fight, couldn't let his mind focus on anything other than the flash of his blade and the movement of his opponent.

His anger-fuelled single-mindedness was his undoing; Edmund, in his blinded state, did not see the Telmarine crossbowmen burst onto the battlements. He noticed them only when his left shoulder burst with a flame of white agony as a bolt pierced the flesh and muscle beneath his leather armor. With a pain-filled cry, Edmund fell back against the cold stone, sword falling as he brought his right hand up to his chest. He tore his hand away as his sight cleared and he found Telmarine steel pointed at his heart.

The young king smiled grimly at Glozelle. "So, I see Telmarine honor hasn't changed in thirteen-hundred years. You know, most cultures consider it unethical for an outside party to interfere in a duel." The words came almost automatically as Edmund tried to breathe through the pain.

The general winced at the accusation. He did not seem very happy himself at his men's interference. Still, he kept his sword steady. "It is unusual to claim thirteen hundred years of knowledge of a people. Who exactly are you?"

Edmund would never understand the Telmarines' penchant for attempting to hold a civil conversation before killing someone. In the middle of a duel, yes, it could be used as a distraction, but it would be a much better idea just to kill the enemy when having the advantage. Still, he could not complain at the delay; and maybe it was prideful, but he didn't really want to die as 'Ed the stableboy'. "I am King Edmund of Narnia."

Glozelle's forehead creased in thought. "I recall no king by that name."

Edmund gave a half-hearted grin. "I believe most Telmarines would know me better as Prince Darksilver."

Though the crossbowmen, still standing at the ready, began murmuring, Glozelle just frowned. "Prince Darksilver is a fairytale."

"So were most of the beings you have slaughtered in your courtyard." As horrible as the sounds of the battle were, it was worse now not hearing anything at all. "You just got a few things wrong. I'm not a giant. I am a _king_ in my own right. And you forgot one very important fact."

Glozelle blinked in confusion. "What?"

The general was answered as Edmund suddenly kicked out, pushing Glozelle back as feet met chest. Before the Telmarine could recover, Edmund was rearmed and standing on the high wall, heels pressed only against air. "It takes more than a shoulder wound to render me helpless.

The crossbowmen raised their weapons to fire, but Glozelle shouted, "Hold!" He walked slowly towards Edmund, looking up into the young man's face, seeing his intention. "There is no need for you to die like this. Your honor and fortitude have earned you quarter. Surrender, and your life will be spared." His face showed that his words held true, that Glozelle honestly did not wish to kill him. But a general could not go against the wishes of his lord, and Edmund did not believe that Miraz's intentions would match Glozelle's.

Edmund's face was calm, not betraying the fierce racing of his heart. "I'm afraid I can't accept your offer, General." Glozelle frowned again, not understanding. "You see, I've enjoyed Telmarine hospitality before, and if I had to choose between that and dying…well, I think," he took a deep breath and sheathed his sword before giving the general a sad smile. "I think I'll take my chances with death."

And with that, Edmund let his feet slide backwards and he was tumbling through the air. Wind whipped at him and he panicked slightly before the soft fur and hard back of the waiting griffin halted his fall. Scrambling to a position where he wouldn't fall off, Edmund bit back a shout as pain laced out from the bolt in his jarred shoulder. "We must hurry and rendezvous with the others, your majesty," stated the griffin, whom Edmund believed was named Kryn if he remembered correctly.

"No," he murmured. "Fly over the courtyard." He felt Kryn hesitate, but griffins are incredibly obedient Animals and so he turned and flew back over the castle.

Edmund felt his stomach turn at the sight. It was carnage. Narnian and Telmarine mingled in death, a mosaic of bodies against stone. And near the gate…Edmund gagged at the carpet of dead Narnians piled against the iron bars, a stack of corpses who were his soldiers, his _friends_. Perhaps even….Edmund closed his eyes for a moment as they passed over the gate before he looked again. No, there was Peter, riding a horse several feet behind the retreating Narnian army. There was Caspian next to Cornelius, and Susan being let down from the griffin who had carried her away from the battle. His family was safe and whole.

Edmund's heart ached, since he was fairly certain he was the only one who could say that now.

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	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

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Both Edmund and Kryn kept silent as they landed. The remnants of the Narnian army were regrouping, well away from Beaversdam, in order to reorganize and take stock of injuries…and losses. Edmund dismounted Kryn with a quiet, "Thank you," knowing that the griffin could not carry him all the way back to the How. Though strong, griffins had light bone structures and could not bear a heavy burden on their backs for very far.

Edmund grimaced as he started walking forward. His shoulder burning, his head aching, the young king wasn't quite sure _he_ could hold his own weight up for long. Still, though close to complete exhaustion, Edmund forced himself to move.

Only to be stopped by a large, familiar form. "My king," nickered Hwella, her soft voice filled with relief as she nuzzled his hair.

At his friend's actions, Edmund felt himself collapse forward. He buried his face in her mane, clutching it with his good hand. Hwella didn't move as her king leaned against her in order to hold himself upright. "Hwella," he croaked out, hoping she could hear his own relief at seeing her escaped from the slaughter.

She did, rubbing her head gently against his back in comfort. Hwella frowned as he tensed up at the movement. "Are you injured, my king?"

Edmund took in a deep breath, not wanting to further worry his already overprotective friend. Hwella did not react well when he was injured, as he knew from previous experience. "It will keep, Hwella."

He saw that the Horse did not believe his strong front, but she did not push him. "Climb up, my king. It is a long journey back to the How."

Edmund moved away and shook his head. "There are other, probably worse off…"

"Your majesty," Looking up, Edmund dazedly stared as Glenstorm, who motioned towards the figure he held in his arms. Edmund bit his lip as he barely recognized Trumpkin; Lucy would be devastated. "Your majesty, Hwella has agreed to bear Trumpkin. But he is gravely injured and cannot hold himself upon her back."

Edmund knew what the Centaur was asking. It showed how out of it he was, though, that Edmund did not realize that Hwella was also just learning of her supposed offer, or that Glenstorm could easily carry Trumpkin himself. In fact, Glenstorm had seen the youngest king's condition and, knowing Edmund, felt that a conspiracy was in order to take care of him. But Edmund knew none of this; instead, he quietly mounted a concerned Hwella before taking Trumpkin from the Centaur general as gently as possible.

Settling the unconscious dwarf against his right shoulder, Edmund blinked back tears. His mind could not shake away the image of those Narnians who _hadn't_ escaped, who did not have the hope of survival that even Trumpkin had, if they could reach the How in time. _It's my fault_, though Edmund, the pain in his heart worse than that in his shoulder. _I shouldn't have let Caspian deviate from the plan. I should've stopped Miraz. I should have gone back and _forced_ Peter to retreat._ His words to Lucy haunted him. _How arrogant that I thought my faith would be enough! That I thought I could rein in Peter, that I had any control at all! _Edmund choked back a sob, the movement rippling pain from his injury. _It's all my fault. It's my fault that my soldiers died, that Trumpkin and the others were hurt. It's my fault that so many families won't see their loved ones again._ "I'm sorry," he whispered to Trumpkin, to the ghosts of his dead soldiers. But there was no answer to give him absolution.

~*~

The Narnians pushed through the night, arriving back at Aslan's How by midmorning. The sky matched the dismal hearts of the army, grey and sunless. Hopeless. By the time they emerged from the forest, Edmund was drifting close to unconsciousness, staying awake through sheer strength of will and determination to protect his helpless charge. Emotionally and physically, he was exhausted; waves of pain pulsed through his body from his wounded shoulder. In the back of his mind, Edmund knew he was on the verge of collapsing completely.

Not yet, though. As the group approached the entrance to the How, Edmund was jolted to awareness when he heard someone, a familiar someone, let out a heartbroken, "What happened?"

Edmund sighed in weariness as he heard Peter's tight answer. "Ask _King Caspian_." The tone of disgust was palpable, though Edmund also heard the underlying guilt. It didn't matter, really, not now. Now Edmund could only struggle to find the strength to stop the impending argument. But, with his head dizzy and aching and grief closing his throat, Edmund found that he couldn't make his mouth speak the necessary words. _This could be a problem, _he thought dazedly.

"Me?" sputtered Caspian with angry amazement. "_You _were the one who did not call it off when there was still time to save lives!"

"There _wasn't_ any time, thanks to you running around like an idiot instead of following the plan! Why call us at all if you aren't going to _listen_ and _follow orders_?" Edmund vaguely thought that Peter's argument was flawed, since Caspian had not actually _meant_ to call them when he blew the horn.

Caspian did not see this discrepancy either, and Edmund idly noted that he needed to teach the boy the finer points of debate. If he could ever get his mouth moving again. While Edmund attempted to force words from his brain to his tongue, Caspian speared Peter with an icy glare. "It is unfortunate that the horn had to call _all_ of you. Ed and I were fighting and _winning_ for weeks before _you_ arrived and slaughtered half our army!"

Edmund was glad to hear someone – Susan? – give a shocked, "Caspian!" because he was fairly certain that he had been rendered speechless by those callous words. If he had actually be able to speak in the first place.

Caspian's condemnation only ignited Peter's dark fury, and the High King flew at the other boy, grabbing the front neck of his shirt. "Don't you dare bring _my brother_ into this! Don't you even _dare_ try and compare yourself to him, you filthy _Telmarine_!"

Edmund watched in detachment at the two Narnian kings preparing to brawl like schoolboys. A flash of red interposed itself between the boys, shoving them apart. "Stop it, both of you! You're acting like children; fighting when you _should_ be thinking of what we need to do now!"

Blinking his blurred eyes, Edmund realized that the flash of red was a girl. _Lucy,_ his mind whispered and he suddenly remembered that the dwarf he was holding needed her. _Healing cordial. Lucy._ "Lucy," he whispered, his lips numb around the word. She didn't hear him, and Edmund grew desperate. He needed to catch her attention before she left, following Caspian into the How. "Lucy!" he was able to cry out, and he was relieved when the red blur materialized into the sister he knew, as she ran to his side.

Edmund felt Hwella kneel beneath him and he struggled to remain sitting upright. Feet touching the earth, Edmund slowly dismounted and gently slid Trumpkin off the Horse. He felt rather shaky himself and so remained kneeling on the ground, holding Trumpkin up against his chest. Lucy did not hesitate, uncapping her cordial even as she and Susan knelt next to the pair. Edmund tilted Trumpkin's head back so that Lucy could let fall a precious drop of fireflower juice into the dwarf's mouth.

After a moment of tense anticipation Trumpkin coughed, opening his eyes to take in their worried faces. "What are you all staring at? Beads and breadsticks, standing around when the Telmarines will be here who knows when," he muttered and Lucy grinned to see her friend back to being himself.

Lucy stood, helping the dwarf to his feet. Edmund vaguely heard Trumpkin thank her, but he was too busy trying to gather his own strength to stand. "Edmund?"

He heard Susan's voice and looked up from the ground to see her worried gaze. He blinked in confusion. Why was she looking at him like that? "Su?" he hoarsely whispered.

The young king watched as she reached a hand across his chest to pull at the sleeve of his armor. His eyesight blurred a moment and he let out a ragged gasp at the burst of agony in his chest. "Lucy!" came Susan's cry and his little sister was back at his side.

Edmund frowned as he saw Lucy go for her cordial. "Lu, what're you doing?"

She gave him a look that clearly said, _What do you _think_ I'm doing, you idiot? _"Edmund, you're injured."

The dark-haired boy looked down at his shoulder and saw the crossbow bolt sticking out of his flesh, end broken and hanging. "Oh, that."

"Yes, that," stated Susan, her lips tight in disapproval and fear.

Edmund thanked Aslan he was actually able to think and speak coherently now. Well, as coherently as he could hope considering. "No need for cordial, Lu. I just…I just need a healer to remove the bolt and stitch the wound."

He could tell Susan did not fully believe him; but Lucy, who had more experience dealing with battle wounds, had to admit that his diagnosis was fairly accurate. Lucy frowned, but put her cordial away, despite Susan's disapproving look. With a sigh, Susan gave in as well, though she insisted on helping Edmund to his feet - for which he was infinitely grateful - and made him lean against her as they walked into the How.

No one commented on the fact that Peter was no where to be seen. Edmund just hoped he hadn't gone after Caspian.

He didn't know that he would later come to regret that hope.

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This and the next few chapters are fairly short. I can probably combine chapters 17 and 18, but that would throw off my numbering even more than usual. I'm contemplating just posting them at the same time, actually, but that would mean the story will end sooner than you (the readers) have been expecting. Thoughts, wishes?


	16. Chapter 16

**Note: **Thanks for everyone's input! I decided to post chapters 17 and 18 separately but both tomorrow. However, I also won't be posting chapter 19 until Tuesday. That way, those people who want to read chapters 17 and 18 together can do so, but those people who like reading a chapter a day and don't mind short chapters can exercise restraint and not read chapter 18 until Monday. =D

**Chapter 16**

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After the healer finished his stitches, the old faun left Edmund in the care of his sisters. Both girls were eying him with worry; though Edmund usually possessed a quiet nature, his present silence was too much. Edmund just didn't know what to say, how to speak with his sisters after had had failed so badly.

He should have known Susan would figure it out the moment he flinched away from her touch. Of course she would not confront him straight out, wanting to draw out his words. "Tell us what happened, Edmund," Susan insisted, her voice soft and gentle.

Edmund knew his eyes were betraying his fear. "Susan…"

"Please, Ed?" begged Lucy. "We can't help you unless you tell us what's wrong."

It was Lucy's voice, taut with confusion and worry, that destroyed his resolve. Breathing deeply, and wincing as it jarred his newly stitched and bandaged shoulder, Edmund let the words come. He told them every detail of the failed raid. He told them how he had let Caspian deviate from the plan, how he had been unsuccessful in stopping Miraz. How it was his fault that the Narnians died. He felt numb at his confession, void of emotion but for his guilt. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not able to bear the condemnation that must be in his sisters' eyes.

Edmund was not expecting the sharp sting in his cheek as Susan's hand connected, but it shocked him out of his dazed stupor and made him focus on his sister, as was probably intended. "Don't you _dare_ blame yourself for this, Edmund Pevensie!" He looked up, stunned to see the fire burning in his older sister's gaze. "You're the only king in Narnia right now who _hasn't _messed up! You did everything you could to make the plan succeed. When Caspian went off and you knew the plan had gone wrong, you _told Peter to retreat_! He didn't, Edmund. He ran into the courtyard and ordered me to signal the troops, even with the alarm ringing. I thought he was saying that you had Miraz, that we could end it without the element of surprise. It is _not_ your fault that Caspian and Peter put their anger and pride over common sense!"

He clenched his hands at his side, looking away from his sister, denying her words with determination. Then Lucy wrapped her arms around his good arm. "But it hurts so much to blame them," she whispered and Edmund felt his heart start to break. He knew she was right, that his guilt was a shield against the agony of admitting that his student and friend, that his beloved, idolized older brother were responsible for so much death. Edmund slumped against Lucy. He was tired, too tired and hurt to deal with his emotions and thoughts.

Apparently Susan saw this and so checked her own anger. Standing, she smoothed back his dark hair. "I'll go set up your bed. You need to rest." She left, trusting Lucy to hold their brother and give what comfort she could; not knowing that the seeds of further danger were already being sown.

~*~

Caspian stalked through the How, his eyes never meeting those of the Narnians he passed. The young king let out a breath as he reached the empty tunnel leading to the Stone Table room. He needed to be alone, he needed to get _away_. Away from Peter's accusing glare, away from the sobs of widows, away from the memories of watching the slaughter of the Narnians trapped in the castle. _His_ castle.

The images bombarded him, and Caspian could only push away tears by bringing forth anger, deflecting his self-blame on others, on _Peter_. He growled beneath his breath as he stopped in front of the painting which showed the coronation of the Four. In Caspian's mind, even the image of the High King exuded arrogance. That arrogance had gotten so many killed, had nearly killed Caspian!

Then the portrayal of the queens. Susan: lifeless, distorted. Lucy, so tiny and naïve. _Both helpless beneath the thumb of their brother,_ thought Caspian darkly, absurdly.

Last came Edmund. Caspian noted, with a bleak laugh, that half of Edmund's picture was missing. _Destroyed like so many lives during this night. I wonder if Peter did _this _as well_, came the irrational thought, hiding from his own guilt.

"Are you still glad for the arrival of the kings and queens of old now?"

Caspian turned to see Nikabrik emerge from the shadows cast by flickering torches. He had not spoken much with the dwarf, as Nikabrik and Edmund tended to avoid each other's company. Still, the Black Dwarf had fought well for them, and Caspian knew he was close to Trufflehunter. Perhaps he ought to hear what Nikabrik had to say.

The dwarf continued, his words echoing in the tunnel and resonating closely with Caspian's own feelings. "The queens have done nothing: the older one blindly follows orders, the younger just yammers about her invisible lion."

Though Caspian wanted to defend the ladies, knew he should, he couldn't; not when he saw the truth in Nikabrik's words. Susan had followed Peter regardless of their disagreements and arguments. And as for Lucy's faith in Aslan…_Well, where was Aslan when those Narnians died? Why didn't he stop Peter? Why didn't he save my father? Why doesn't he get rid of Miraz?_

Then Nikabrik hit the center of Caspian's ire. "And what has the _magnificent_ High King done? Put you down, taken over. Led your army into a massacre."

Despair rose in Caspian's heart as the dwarf opened his eyes to the reality of the Sovereigns he had so idolized as a child. In one last effort, hope attempted to resurface. "But Edmund…he has not failed."

"Hasn't he?" answered Nikabrik with a sneer. "Yah, he's a good fighter and he's done well in battle. But he doesn't understand that sometimes it takes more to win a war. He prays to Aslan; but has the lion ever answered? He follows the High King without question; what did that get him? He can't see past the lion, past his brother, to see what it takes to help you get what you want."

Caspian hesitated, his intrigue battling with his loyalty to his friend, his brother. Intrigue won. "And you think you can help me?"

Nikabrik grinned. "Oh, we can help. We can help you take your uncle's throne, take his blood. We can help you take anything you desire."

Temptation laid, Nikabrik slowly disappeared down one of the side branches of the tunnel. Caspian started following, but paused to glance again at the painting of Edmund. A kernel of misgiving grew in his stomach; was he betraying his friend by going behind his back? Caspian had always involved Edmund in making decisions. _Where did that get you? _hissed a dark inner voice. Caspian grimaced, but turned away from the image of his friend to follow Nikabrik's path.

~*~

The tunnel led the two into the Stone Table room from the side, nearly opposite the main entrance. They passed behind the great arch, and Caspian could not help but look up at the engraving of Aslan. Cold, lifeless eyes stared back and Caspian turned his attention to Nikabrik, who was speaking again. "You tried one ancient power. They failed. But there are other powers, older and greater. You just have to be willing to use them."

Caspian looked up as he heard heavy breathing. He stepped forward and drew his sword. "Who's there?" he demanded. Two dark figures seemed to melt from the walls of the room.

A limping figured answered in a deep, rasping voice. "I am hunger. I am thirst. I can fast a hundred years and not die. I can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze." The two figures moved closer, and Caspian saw that the speaker had a hairy, spittle-ridden snout, while its companion seemed to be an old woman of some kind. Caspian felt a chill slide up his spine as the raspy voice continued. "I can drink a river of blood and not burst. Show…me…your enemies!"

Caspian jumped and shuddered as the figure threw back his cloak with a snarl, revealing the fierce head of a werewolf. The old woman – _a hag_, his mind whispered – approached in a mockingly reverent manner. "What you hate, so will we. No one hates better than us."

Though the deepest parts of his soul were screaming denials, Caspian's anger overcame them. Miraz had killed his father, killed his Narnian friends; he deserved to die and Caspian did not want to care how it happened. "And you can guarantee Miraz's death?"

"And more," crooned the hag. In his mind, Caspian saw flashes of what could be: himself on the Telmarine throne. Miraz dead. The Telmarines forced to keep peace with Narnia, repaid for their crimes. Peter, kneeling, forced to acknowledge his power and authority.

Another picture flashed through Caspian's mind - Lucy crying, Edmund staring at him in disbelief and disappointment – but his mind was distracted as the hag ordered a circle to be drawn. The werewolf dragged a claw through the dirt, circling Caspian like a vulture as the hag chanted words that made Caspian's ears hurt.

The chant rose and Caspian's eyes widened as the hag withdrew a wand from her cloak, the end jagged. He knew exactly what it was: the wand of the White Witch, broken by Edmund in the Battle of Beruna. Before he could say anything, the hag slammed the wand into the ground beneath the arch. A chill filled the air as a wall of ice climbed between the pillars, and Caspian felt as if he was standing outside in the middle of winter.

But it was the figure that drifted in the ice that chilled his very soul. His anger went cold, his self-hatred fled, and all thoughts of revenge disappeared. What remained were words, whispered in a dark room to answer a hesitant question: _She was pure evil, Caspian. Everything she touched died. Even me, even _Aslan, _though in his power he overcame that death. I thank the Lion on my knees every day that she's gone._

She wasn't gone, though. Not anymore: because there, right before his eyes and floating in a prison of ice, was who could only be Jadis, the White Witch.

The horror Caspian felt at the sight turned his stomach. _What have I done?_

_

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Originally, the first part of this chapter, with Edmund, was actually the end of the chapter. It works better this way, I think.


	17. Chapter 17

**Note: **First of the two chapters for today!

**Chapter 17**

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Edmund was half asleep on Lucy's shoulder when Trumpkin burst into the healer's ward. "Your majesties! One of the Hounds smelled werewolf in the tunnel, heading towards the Stone Table! King Peter is already going to investigate."

That woke Edmund and he sat up straight. "Alone?" he demanded, eyes fierce.

"He told me to find you," answered Trumpkin warily.

Which meant Peter was charging into an unknown, dangerous situation by himself. Great. Edmund hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the pressure on his wound. As he grabbed his sword, Lucy grabbed his arm. "Edmund, you're in no condition to fight!"

He sighed. "No choice, Lu," he said simply before running out the ward with a concerned Trumpkin following close behind.

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Surprisingly, they were able to catch up with Peter just before reaching the end of the main tunnel. There was no time for anything but a brief nod of acknowledgement as they heard Caspian's terrified shouts: "Stop! Let me go, this isn't what I wanted! You can't _do_ this, let me go!"

Dashing into the room, Edmund grew cold…and not just from the drop in temperature emanating from a strange wall of ice. Impossibly, the face that still sometimes haunted his dreams stared out of the ice, beckoning before the still form of Caspian. A hand reached out toward the young king, Caspian reaching back.

Then the werewolf, and a hag, attacked and Edmund was forced to concentrate on the immediate threat. Peter engaged the hag and Trumpkin fought Nikabrik – _the little traitor, _he thought grimly – leaving Edmund the werewolf. The beast jumped over Edmund's head so that the king had to twist to meet it and avoid the extended claws. Edmund swung at its head, but it ducked and lunged at the boy's feet. The tackle threw Edmund into the air, but even as he fell he swung, sword slicing through the werewolf's leg. Edmund landed on his bad shoulder, gasping at the pain that muddied his head.

Vaguely he heard Lucy cry out, but before he could fully process her presence and help her, the werewolf snarled and leapt, snapping at Edmund's throat. He rolled, just in time, jumping to his feet and twisting to gain some distance between himself and his enemy. The werewolf growled and swiped a large paw at his shoulder, having apparently noticed his handicap, but Edmund gritted his teeth at the white-hot agony and turned through the blow, bringing his sword around. The blade sliced into the werewolf's skull and, with a final howl, it slumped to the ground, dead.

Edmund gulped in desperately-needed air, but already began looking for his next target. The hag was down, Trumpkin and Lucy seemed to be taking care of Nikabrik. And the witch…Edmund felt his heart drop as he saw that Caspian was no longer transfixed in front of that terrible woman. Instead, Peter stood before her, sword drawn…and not moving. _No! Peter, what are you doing?_

Not waiting to hear what honeyed words the witch murmured to his brother, Edmund dashed forward, feet flying faster than he thought humanly possible. He knew better than to step in front of the witch, could not dare risk falling under her spell, not again. Instead, he darted around the arch, towards the carved relief of Aslan. He didn't hesitate. Raising his sword with both hands, Edmund stabbed into the witch's incorporeal body with all the strength he could muster.

Time stood still for a moment. Then a surge of power rippled through the sword, the force causing his arms to burn and ache as he struggled to hold position. Following closely, the witch groaned; Edmund barely had time to turn his head as the ice shattered, shards flying at him like a shower of broken glass. Then silence.

.

Edmund slowly lowered his sword, eyes moving to look at the two kings that stood below him, picking themselves up from where they had knelt prostrate on the ground. Wide eyes, blue and brown, stared back at him, both pairs mirrors of shame and guilt. They knew what they had done.

Anger welled in Edmund's gut, anger and hurt he had long clamped down on but which had reached its final boiling point. They _knew_ what they had done! Peter and Caspian had stood in front of the White Witch knowing _exactly_ what they were risking! Edmund wanted to scream, throw his own sword at those _idiots_ who had almost resurrected Narnia's greatest enemy. Only his memory of his own fall to her temptation and enchantment checked his hand. Anger faded as Edmund acknowledged that he could not condemn them for what he himself had once done, not when their regret was almost palpable. No, condemnation could only come from the Great King of Narnia, and Edmund knew well that Aslan would forgive a repentant heart.

That did not mean Edmund could not be disappointed, could not be just utterly tired of dealing with Peter and Caspian's prideful mistakes. Edmund closed his eyes. He was so _tired_!

"Edmund?" His eyes flew open at Caspian's tentative call. The dark-haired young man hesitated at the Just King's impassive gaze. "Edmund, I…"

"I'm done."

Caspian paused at Edmund's weary interruption. Peter, still reeling from what had happened with the witch, took over trying to speak with his brother. "Ed, please, I…"

"No." Edmund's tired but fierce voice stopped Peter's attempt as well. The older kings stood still, watching as Edmund sheathed his sword with a firm hand. "I'm done. I'm done giving advice that goes in one ear and out the other." Caspian's eyes shifted to the ground. Edmund turned his gaze to his brother. "I'm done fixing mistakes you don't even care about."

Edmund saw Peter's eyes harden with the remnants of pride, which made the Just king all the more angry. Had he learned nothing? "Ed…" Peter began, but he was cut off as Edmund took an angry step forward.

"No! I'm _done_! So next time you decide that your _pride_ is more important than the good of your country, your people, your _family_…" Both Peter and Caspian almost comically jumped in fright as Edmund grabbed the witch's wand with one hand and, with angry strength, pulled it from the ground. He pointed the wand at the two kings, hand shaking with fury. "Next time, you can have the _glory_ of destroying Narnia _yourself_!" At the final word, Edmund threw the wand down before Peter and Caspian, letting it roll against their feet. The two looked up at his dark eyes, which brimmed with almost wild anger. Edmund's voice was low and tight as he finished. "Destroy her yourself. Because I. Won't. Be there."

Turning on his heel, Edmund disappeared into the darkness of the side tunnels, never glancing back at the two kings who stared dismally after him.

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	18. Chapter 18

**Note: **And the second chapter. Next update on Tuesday!

**Chapter 18**

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Peter had not thought he could be colder than he had been while standing beneath the White Witch's enchantment. He was wrong. The agony in Edmund's eyes, then watching his brother leave – _I won't be there _– pierced him with an icy chill that Peter thought surely froze him more completely than ever could the wand that rested at his feet. He shuddered, face white, at the sight of that wand, remembering with clear starkness what he had almost done:

_Her voice was beguiling: "Come, just one drop," smooth and resonating. Not a minute before he had been determined to run her through, destroy her once more. But then her words, and her eyes so clear and bright…He struggled to break free from the strange lethargy he felt, the feeling that he was stuck in molasses._

_Until she spoke again: "You know you can't do this alone."_

_Guilt, grief, anger, hurt, every emotion he had felt since leaving Narnia flooded Peter's senses, yet exponentially shadowed by his broken sense of failure. The witch smiled, coldly and gently, and Peter felt his arm drop as the images of her promise flashed across his vision. He saw Narnia, as if standing on one of the great Western Mountains and able to overlook the entire country. The feeling of power pulsed with every heartbeat as he saw his country, freed by his own hand. No Telmarines polluted her pristine beauty; no dark, bloody castles dotted the hills, but his own white Cair rebuilt, sun glistening off its marble. He had freed Narnia._

_Then he heard a terrific groan, and a piercing voice screamed in his thoughts: "No! It's mine, _he's _mine! No!" Images shattered along with the witch and Peter shielded his face - but not before seeing the end of his vision: For as he stood proudly over his Narnia, his eyes drifted to the hands that had freed his land. In those hands, _his_ hands, he held a weapon that had starred in the worst of his nightmares. He held the witch's wand, glimmering with power and stained with blood. And he looked at Narnia and realized, with a shock that ripped through his body, that his land was not bright with freedom. __The sun only glinted off a land of stone and ice, the white brightness of the Cair only a reflection of the snow that covered it. _

_This was his glory._

Peter was pulled out of his reverie when his eye caught Caspian turning to face behind them. Turning as well, Peter's heart sunk further as he saw Susan glaring at them. Obviously, she had seen everything and was none too pleased by the actions of the two older kings. Though Peter had thought her disappointed frowns could no longer affect him – he had been their recipient more times than he could count the past year – this time was different. This time he _knew_ he deserved it, could not deny or defend himself. Peter had denied his wrongs, forgot what it meant to be king. He had denied the one who had made him king in the first place, and in doing so he had…

Desperately Peter tried to shove away the recognition of his failures. Pushing back his emotions, he started moving, almost frantic to get away from this place, from the wand at his feet which mocked him further. Only his plan was foiled when Lucy stood firmly in his way. "No, Peter. No running away."

"Lucy…"

The young queen frowned at him. "Edmund is not the only one tired of dealing with you and Caspian. So neither of you are leaving this room until you stop acting like children and begin acting like kings."

Peter knew there was little chance of escaping her, not when she had that look on her face. Her quick glance at Caspian had the prince gulping and wordlessly acquiescing. There would be no help from Susan, who coldly announced that she would be informing the Narnians that the threat was gone. Trumpkin remained their last hope, but that was quickly dashed. "I should be the one who tells about Nikabrik." The Red Dwarf gave them a quick, cheeky grin that had Peter glaring. "Good luck, you two."

Then Peter and Caspian were left alone with the youngest queen, now standing in front of the Stone Table. They shifted under her glare. "Talk," she insisted, her voice near to a growl.

Caspian fell first. "Nikabrik…he said he could help. I did not know…"

Peter's guilt took this prime opportunity to lash out into anger and blame. "You didn't know? You didn't think that maybe conspiring with a hag and a werewolf would be a _bad thing_? Did you think at all?"

Caspian glared, his own guilt turning to anger. "I thought that there might be a different way to defeat the Telmarines, since the attack on the Beaversdam castle was a complete _disaster: _badly planned and more terribly executed."

The insult was too much. "Perhaps you should get your head examined, then! Did you think this was the first time we had attacked a castle? Did you think this was the first time we fought Telmarines? Did it ever occur to you that there might be a _reason_ that Edmund was able to infiltrate a Telmarine fortress so easily? We fought them! We fought the Telmarines for two long, bloody years! And now, we come back to find some bratty Telmarine princeling saying that Aslan wants _him_ to rule our kingdom!"

As could be expected, Caspian did not react well to being called a bratty Telmarine princeling. "At least I have tried to fight for the Narnians and not solely for myself!" He ignored Peter's incredulous snort to continue. "And I actually accepted and wanted Edmund's help, instead of ignoring the wisdom and skill of my family."

Hearing Caspian use Edmund as a pawn in his argument both enraged and frightened Peter, and so he lashed out again. "You don't _have_ any family that isn't trying to kill you at the moment, so forgive me if I think I know better how to deal with my brother than you do." Unwelcome images bombarded his mind, memories of Caspian and Edmund laughing together, of Edmund defending the Telmarine against Peter, of Edmund's cold, accusing eyes not moments before. Edmund had always understood his older brother, always picked him up after he fell. Peter had thought it would always be so; but maybe he was wrong. Had he crossed the line, gone too far, pushed too hard?

Peter, though, had unfortunately crossed a different line when he had attacked Caspian's family, or glaring lack thereof. Coming so soon after he found out that his uncle had murdered his father, Caspian snapped. "So, dealing with a brother involves not caring about the danger he's been in, embroiling him in an ill-led battle, and ignoring him to the point where he _completely_ gives up on you?" If he saw the blood slowly drain from Peter's face, it did not stop him from dealing the final blow: "It is no wonder that Edmund said he wanted _me_ to be his brother!"

During the argument, Lucy had remained silent, letting the boys vent their anger. At this last barb, though, she could not hold back a shocked gasp. "Caspian! You can't say it like that!" Unfortunately, her reprimand only gave more credence to Caspian's taunt; by acknowledging his words, Lucy inadvertently made them truer in Peter's mind.

If Caspian had not noticed Peter's reaction before, he could not miss it now. With a startling quickness, the High King's knees buckled and he slid to the ground, as if all life and energy were draining from him. And so it felt to Peter, who dazedly wondered what weapon Caspian had pierced him with that burned into the deep hollows of his chest. But no, there was no steel slicing into his heart, only the words he had not let himself fear for this very reason: because if he thought being replaced as king hurt, knowing that Edmund had given up on him, had _replaced_ him, ached a thousand times more fiercely.

Peter dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and moaned. It was too much. He had tried to hold on to one thing, hold on to being the High King and, in doing so, had lost everything: his kingdom, his home, his people, his honor, his damnable pride. Now, in this final, crushing blow, he had lost his brother, his _brother_. Just as Lucy had warned him, he had pushed Edmund away and had lost him, perhaps forever.

He vaguely thought he heard his sister, her frantic voice a distant echo. "Peter, Peter stop, it's not like that. Peter, please!"

Peter rocked forward as comforting arms tried to snake around his neck, chest aching as his breathing grew too fast for his lungs. He was close to hyperventilation, caused by shock coupled with exhaustion and, above all, by the condemnation running through his mind. _I lost him. It's my fault, my fault. Oh Aslan, I lost him!_ His heart-rending confession slipped from his soul to his lips, but he didn't _care_ because he had lost his brother and nothing else mattered.

Then Peter heard Caspian speak his name again and went utterly still. His breathing went from frighteningly fast to almost nothing as he waited. He waited for the next wound, knew he deserved every acid-laced word of blame that would spill from the Telmarine's mouth. What he got instead, strangely, was a plea: "Please, stop, Peter. You have not lost him." Peter drew in a ragged breath and brought his head up to look at his fellow king. Caspian's normally tan face was drawn and pale, and he almost wavered on his feet.

Caspian looked at Peter and quickly glanced away, eyes filled with guilt and understanding and even despair. He tried to explain, words tripping. "You have not lost him," he repeated. "You haven't…I didn't mean…He didn't…He didn't say it in such a way." Caspian sucked in a breath to try and steady his voice. "He did not replace you; he was just trying to include me into your family. I just…I do not have a family and I wanted…I _wanted_ to replace you, prove I was better: as a king, as a brother. I was jealous…I'm sorry…" Caspian's voice faltered as he glimpsed Peter's tear-streaked face. "I'm sorry," he choked out before turning and dashing from the room.

Peter finally let Lucy hold him in a comforting embrace as he tried to process this information. The young queen reiterated in a clearer manner what Caspian had said: "Edmund didn't replace you with Caspian, Peter. No one did. No one _could_. But Caspian…he wants a family, wants to be a brother, he just doesn't know how." Lucy stroked his hair like a mother with her child. "Peter, Edmund would never replace you. You are his king. And, more importantly, you're his brother. He will _never_ forget that."

His breathing now settled and steady, Peter just stared at the ground. He knew Lucy was telling the truth; she had been right in everything else so far, he did not dare doubt her word anymore. He also knew that Caspian had not lied, his face had been too haunted and guilt-ridden. So Peter had to believe, had to be reassured that Edmund had not replaced him, that his stupid pride had not yet pushed him away.

Somehow, though, the thought did not fully comfort Peter. He had made so many mistakes; did he even _deserve_ to be forgiven? Glancing over at the carving of Aslan, Peter was sure that he did not.

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	19. Chapter 19

**Note: **And we're back! Unfortunately, with a short chapter, but what can you do?

**Chapter 19**

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A cool breeze brushed through Caspian's hair as he sat on the ledge, looking out over the field in front of the How. His eyes gazed out towards the woods, but his mind was otherwise occupied. He was sure that he would never forget the with the haunting memory of the utter despair in Peter's face. Despair placed there by Caspian's words.

Caspian had thought the High King was only a cold individual, void of emotion except for anger and pride. How blind he had been! How completely blind and stupid not to realize that Lucy had been right in saying that Peter's actions were but a front to an inner anguish. He had thought she had been exaggerating when she told him that learning the consequences of his actions could kill Peter. Having seen the devastation that this realization had created, Caspian realized full well that she had been too close to the truth.

The young man bowed his head. He had been so wrong about so much. No matter how Caspian tried to justify his actions, in his heart he knew that his guilt was as great, if not more than Peter's. It was his own rash actions that allowed Miraz to escape during the raid. It was _his_ jealousy and greed and anger that allowed Nikabrik and his fell friends to call up the White Witch, regardless if Peter fell into the same temptation after. Caspian had gone into it with eyes wide open, knowing that any dealing with a hag and a werewolf had to have some dark purpose. The fact that he regretted it the moment he had laid his eyes on the Witch was his only saving grace.

Even that, though, was not enough. Perhaps if he had repented immediately, had confessed instead of trying to explain actions, Caspian could claim some righteousness. Instead, he had tried to _defend _what he had done, deflect the blame. Then, oh, then, worst of all, Caspian had struck Peter with the most brutal weapon possible – the love of his brother. And he had done it not for Edmund's sake, not out of love for his adopted family, but for the pure pleasure that came from hurting someone who had hurt him. Caspian had felt sick the moment the words left his mouth, but by then it was too late.

The young Telmarine bowed his head. How did relishing in the infliction of pain make him different than the White Witch? How was he any different from _Miraz_?

Deep in self-recrimination, Caspian almost didn't notice when Doctor Cornelius came out on the ledge and sat next to him. Teacher and student sat in silence for awhile, Cornelius waiting for his young charge to speak.

His first words were a broken confession. "I nearly destroyed Narnia. Three times. I caused the raid to fail. I stepped into Nikabrik's trap, full willing. And I…I nearly destroyed the High King. Perhaps I have. Edmund called me brother, and yet I still attacked one whom he holds closest to his heart." Caspian heard Cornelius shift, but could not look at his tutor. "It is the greatest betrayal," whispered the young man, broken at the thought.

Cornelius only paused a moment before speaking, careful in his words. "Even a great betrayal may be forgiven. King Edmund would understand this more than most."

Caspian gave a bitter laugh. "Perhaps he might forgive me had I only hurt him, though I so arrogantly swore that would never happen. But I hurt his brother. I forgot everything Edmund taught me about being a king, fully ignored even the most important precept, to trust Aslan. Instead, I followed the same path as my uncle: I treated those who should have been family with disdain and pride and jealousy. I tried to tear Narnia from their High King, and Edmund from his brother. How can I ask Edmund to forgive me for that?" In his plea, Caspian sounded almost like a small child, desperately begging for unknown answers.

There was another pause. When Doctor Cornelius spoke again, it was not an answer Caspian was expecting. "After you learned that the tales of King Goldenfire and Prince Darksilver were derived from the true stories of Old Narnia, I…protected you from hearing the darker, more terrible stories. Stories that would open your eyes to the sufferings that can befall even a good ruler." Caspian looked at his tutor, whose eyes were shaded with sadness. "I did not wish you to lose the innocence that was so rare among Telmarine nobles. And…I did not want to tell you of some of the crueler evils of Telmarine history." Caspian swallowed hard as Cornelius continued, knowing instinctively he was not going to like what his teacher was going to say.

"One of these stories tells of how Prince Darksilver enchanted himself in order to infiltrate the castle of Lord Santosian, a cousin of the King of Telmar. From within, Prince Darksilver spied and wrecked havoc in the castle, before Santosian caught him in a trap." Cornelius took a deep breath. "Santosian, so the tale goes, ruthlessly tortured Prince Darksilver for many days in order to unearth the Giants' plans – do not ask me to tell you the details the stories relate." His voice shook even relating that much. "But it was such that the Prince was at the point of death before King Goldenfire magically spirited his way into the castle and slaughtered Santosian and his household, rescuing Darksilver so that they might continue their rampage against Telmar."

The story was all too easy to translate into mental images, and Caspian felt his stomach turn in horror. "Heaven's light!" he swore as the realization hit him. It was Edmund who had been captured infiltrating a Telmarine fortress, _Edmund_ who had been tormented and almost killed, by Caspian's own people. It was no wonder that Peter would be horrified to find two Telmarines fighting over Narnia's throne - after all the two kings had gone through, after the images of seeing his brother nearly tortured to death had been burned into Peter's memory... "That…that actually happened." Caspian's voice could not rise above a sickened whisper.

Cornelius nodded. "And yet King Edmund took the same risk again; for the sake of his people and his land." The old professor grasped Caspian's arm tightly. "More notable, though, is that he risked being found out in order to plan the escape of a friend; even knowing quite well what the results of failure would be." Caspian tried to pull away, but Cornelius determinedly kept his hold, demanding his student's attention. "Caspian, when King Edmund could have easily ignored you as just another Telmarine, when he could have dismissed you and placed you in the same category as your uncle, as Santosian, instead he gave you a chance. And he found in you someone he deemed worthy of calling a friend. A brother."

"I do not deserve to be called either," stated Caspian softly. Perhaps Edmund could forgive the Telmarine race for their cruel torture. Perhaps if he could do that, he could have enough room in his heart to forgive Caspian. But Caspian was not sure he deserved forgiveness.

Cornelius, long accustomed to reading his student's face, must have sensed his thoughts. "Whatever mistakes you have made, Caspian, whatever you have done in the past, you _must_ move on; you cannot dwell. Acknowledge the past, repent of it, learn from it. But you must think to the present, prepare for the future." His tone softened. "And, my boy, you must trust in the mercy and forgiveness of both your friend…and Aslan."

* * *

.

See? It's like _Terror Gold_, but not really the same. Different universes and all that.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

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Peter sat with his back against the Stone Table, staring at the carving of Aslan. He had already sent Lucy away; he wanted to be alone with his faults, not be comforted. And he had oh so many mistakes to contemplate.

How had everything gone so wrong? From the moment Peter found himself on hands and knees on the floor of the Professor's spare room, he had been lost. Peter had tried to be the High King, even in England; act like a king, even as a schoolboy. Instead, he knew he had let his feelings of inadequacy and doubt tear him apart, slowly and painfully. Was it his fault? Had he done something wrong in ruling Narnia that Aslan would send him away, banish him from his kingdom?

Peter pulled his knees to his chest as he forced himself to analyze his emotions and actions in the past year. He had felt betrayed by Aslan, no longer felt that he could trust the Lion. He did not understand why he had been exiled. And, most of all, if he trusted that Aslan had a good reason for that exile, Peter would have had to relinquish control over his own life and destiny.

So Peter stopped trusting Aslan and began trusting only his siblings. But then Lucy and Edmund kept their faith in the Lion, and Susan drifted away from all of them, and Peter, having lost faith in the most important figure in his life, found it all too easy to lose faith in his siblings as well. Soon Peter trusted no one but himself and nothing but his own ability.

Head bowed, Peter squeezed his eyes shut. Where had that gotten him? He had tried to be High King in his own power, and forgotten entirely what being High King meant. What his friend and mentor, King Lune of Archenland, had explained so long ago:

_A king must be a servant to his country. And, as High King, you have a greater responsibility; because you must further serve those kings and queen who came before, those who will come after. And, most importantly, you must serve those who rule beside you. You must put all before yourself, as Aslan has done. And, if you do so, you truly _will _be a magnificent king._

During his reign, Peter had followed this advice as best he could, and prospered for it. But, once back in England, Lune's wise words had faded in his memory and Peter no longer served others. Only himself.

Peter rested his forehead against his knees. How King Lune would be ashamed to see him now! Instead of serving the Narnians, Peter had led them into a massacre in his quest to assert his power. He had not served Caspian, refusing to believe that the Telmarine was king under him. Most damningly, Peter knew he had not served or supported his siblings. Instead, he had argued with Susan; he refused to trust Lucy's faith. And Edmund…Edmund he had hurt most of all; he had ignored and pushed away and thrown angry, hurtful words at his cherished little brother, the brother who had never been anything but loyal and loving. That he had hurt _Edmund_…

The High King's accusing rumination was interrupted by the same voice that had forced his examination of conscience. Peter could not stop his head from snapping up, or his back from stiffening in fear, when Caspian softly called out, "King Peter?"

Breathing in to steady his nerves, Peter stood and turned to face his fellow king. The two young men looked at each other uncomfortably for a long moment before Peter took the first, shaky step to reconciliation. "Just Peter, please." Acknowledgement of Caspian's equal rank: something he should have done long before.

Caspian let his eyes fully meet Peter's and nodded in returned respect. "Have you seen Ed…King Edmund? Queen Susan and Queen Lucy thought he had gone to rest, but he was not in his room. I want…I need to apologize to him."

Peter frowned. It was never a good thing when Edmund went off on his own, angry. Things tended to get broken when Edmund's temper snapped. That, or mass slaughter of the enemy, but since the Telmarines were not there yet, Peter would bet on things getting broken. "We might have to track him. He went that way, right?" He gestured toward the side tunnel. The other king nodded, wincing as he remembered Edmund's face before he stormed away. The two walked down the tunnel, each carrying a lit torch. They kept their eyes to the ground at first, trying to follow the faint prints Edmund had left in the dust. The silence between them was tense, filled with pained memories of their pride-filled deeds and harsh words.

It was Caspian who finally broke the quiet. "Your majesty – Peter – I must apologize to you, as well."

Peter was already shaking his head. "You don't need to apologize for speaking the truth."

"It was _not_ the truth," insisted Caspian, frowning at the High King's lifeless tone. The light of the torches highlighted the distraught shame in Caspian's face at the thought that _he_ had put that tone there.

Looking at the ground before him, Peter ignored Caspian's distress. "I…I should be the one apologizing. I've not been acting much like a High King." His voice lowered as he whispered to himself, "I've made so many mistakes."

He did not realize that Caspian had heard the last until the young man firmly answered, "And I shouldn't have expected otherwise, shouldn't have been disappointed that you weren't straight out of the stories of my childhood."

Peter looked over at Caspian, brows furrowed. "What?"

Caspian's mouth quirked in a small smile that did not match his guilt-filled eyes. "Lesson Nine." At Peter's questioning look, Caspian explained. "Everyone makes mistakes. A king is no different."

"A king's mistakes have greater consequences, though," Peter pointed out despondently.

There was a pause, then Caspian spoke again. "I think…whoa!" Peter's hand automatically shot out to steady Caspian as the young man stumbled. "Thank you, I…" Even in the dim light, it was obvious that Caspian's face had gone pale. "Stars in heaven!"

Peter shifted his gaze to see what had shocked the other king so badly. His breath left his body and the torch in his hand fell to the ground. Caspian had not tripped over a fallen rock; he had tripped over a body. A horribly familiar, horribly _still_ body. "Oh Aslan, _Edmund!_"

.

The High King fell to his knees beside the limp figure, raising a slight puff of dust. A shaky hand reached for a pulse, and Peter frowned at the thready heartbeat he found. "Caspian, get Lucy here, now!" The words had barely left his lips before Caspian shot off with speed he probably did not know he had.

With a calm that surprised him, Peter checked Edmund for spinal injuries before gently shifting him to his back. Peter tried not to let Edmund's ragged and irregular breathing distract him from checking for other injuries, but he found himself having to steady his own breathing. _You can't help Edmund if you pass out, idiot_. "Come on, Ed, wake up." There wasn't a flicker to indicate that the younger boy heard, no flutter of his dark lashes. _Wake up, please!_

Peter was fairly certain that he stopped breathing at all when he felt Edmund's left shoulder and his hands came away dark and slick. He swore as he quickly began applying pressure, wishing he wasn't still wearing his armor so that he could use his shirt; but he did not dare let up, not with the amount of blood Edmund must have already lost. Taking off his armor and shirt would take time…time which Edmund might not have to spare.

Armor.

Peter blinked as he realized his hands were not hindered by the borrowed leather he would expect Edmund to be wearing. _Why isn't he wearing armor? He _never_ takes it off after battle until everything is settled. Why would he take on a _werewolf_ unarmored? _Without armor, the werewolf's claws had torn right through his tunic, bandage, flesh, straight into bone. Peter choked on air when he replayed the list in his mind and looked again at the wound that bled beneath his fingers. Though both bloodstained, there were clearly two cloths visible in the dim torchlight.

Peter focused closer, feeling the wound even as he tried to hold Edmund's life in his body. The scratches from the werewolf were deep, but the bleeding came more from a different, deeper wound. Peter sucked in a strangled breath as the evidence congealed into a clear image. Edmund had been injured _before_ the fight at the Stone Table; he had been hurt during that blasted raid and Peter had let him fight a bloody _werewolf_.

_I didn't know! How could I not have noticed, why didn't I _check? Peter's stomach turned. How far had he fallen that he did not ensure his brother had not been hurt, not even after those terrifying moments when Edmund had chased after Miraz by himself? _It's my fault. _"I'm sorry, Ed. Oh Aslan!"

Edmund did not react. Not to Peter's continued pleas for him to wake up, not to the pain from the pressure on his wound. _How long has he been lying here, bleeding? How long has his life been draining away while I wallowed in my guilt?_ Peter grit his teeth. No more guilt, not now, not until everything was over and Edmund and the girls and Narnia were safe. No more lashing out; that had already done enough damage. For now, he had to shove it aside, shove _all_ his emotions aside. For Narnia, for his family.

.

Peter was not sure how much time passed as he desperately tried to stem the flow of blood, desperately pleaded for his brother to hold on to life, to not leave him. He went weak with relief when he heard the pounding of feet and the shouting of their names. "Over here!"

In a flurry of motion, Lucy was kneeling by Edmund's side, tilting his head so that she could let a precious drop of fireflower cordial fall into his mouth. This was the moment Peter always hated most: the waiting, the wondering if it would work this time. There was movement beneath his hands and Peter lifted them away, stained red with blood.

Relief cut through the air as the group – Susan had come with Lucy and Caspian – saw that the wound was closing. Edmund's breathing deepened and steadied, and in only a few moments his eyelashes began fluttering.

With a groan, Edmund opened his eyes, blinking as he took in the concerned faces surrounding him. "What…?"

Lucy busily checked the wound, making sure it had healed completely. "How do you feel?"

Falling into patient-mode – a situation he was sadly good at – Edmund automatically answered her question. "Tired," he croaked, before licking his cracked lips. "Thirsty and tired."

"I'm not surprised," commented Susan darkly. She was staring at Peter's blood-soaked hands and sleeves, all-too aware as to how they got that way. "You lost a lot of blood."

Caspian looked confused. "Doesn't the cordial…?"

"It heals wounds almost instantly," answered Edmund as Lucy and Peter helped him sit up. He listed to the side, leaning against Peter's shoulder. "Takes longer to replace blood." As they had once learned the hard way.

"Which is why you are going straight to bed."

There was no arguing when Susan spoke in that tone. Of course, Edmund tried anyway. "But…" It took one glare to stop him before he started. The young king sighed. "Can I have some water first?"

"You will be having plenty of fluids, don't worry." When both girls began mothering, it was easier just to give up. Though that usually didn't stop Edmund, this time he just nodded his assent.

Peter could feel his brother's exhaustion and knew they needed to get Edmund to bed before he fell asleep sitting up. The High King bit his lip. While he could fairly easily help Edmund walk to their chamber, perhaps it was time he stopped trying to do everything himself. "Caspian, could you help me help him up?"

The three pairs of raised eyebrows – Edmund was already half-asleep – at Peter's calm, polite tone would be a comical picture if it did not highlight his past failings. Wordlessly, Lucy moved from Edmund's side, letting Caspian slip in. Together, the two older kings helped their younger companion to his feet and hung his arms around their shoulders. "Nothing wrong with my legs," complained Edmund, but he didn't struggle against their help. Mostly because it was obvious that, though they weren't injured, his legs probably couldn't hold him steady at the moment.

The girls went ahead, Lucy to fetch water and Susan to set up the mattress for Edmund (Peter was rather certain both he and Caspian would be missing their blankets by the time they got there). That left three silent kings to walk slowly through the How. None spoke: Edmund, because he was busy trying not to sleep-walk, Caspian because he was still uncomfortable about recent revelations, and Peter because he was preoccupied with trying to focus on his steps instead of his failure to protect his brother.

Even before they entered the kings' chamber, Lucy was already pressing a canteen at Edmund. Grateful, Edmund freed his right arm from Caspian to accept the water. "Slowly, Ed. You don't want to choke," scolded the young queen, but it was ruined by her smile. Despite her work with the healers, Lucy had never liked having to treat her brothers, particularly for life-threatening injuries. It made reprimanding them for being careless with their health hard when she was so relieved that they had lived.

As Peter helped Edmund to his mattress – he was right: all the blankets had been appropriated – Susan fussed and Lucy plied Edmund with water. Seeing that the attention was bordering on overwhelming, Peter opened his mouth to try and disperse the crowd. He was interrupted by Lucy's exclamation: "Oh! We should tell the others that Ed's alright!" She elaborated for a confused Peter's sake. "We left Trumpkin to tell the Narnians and keep them calm."

Edmund, who had been swiftly drifting off, opened his eyes quickly. "Did he tell Hwella I was hurt?"

Peter began wracking his brain, trying to remember if he knew any Hwella; but Caspian's eyes just widened. "I will go tell her you are fine," he said and dashed out of the room.

"And _we_ should let you sleep," declared Susan, looking pointedly at Lucy and Peter, and pressing a swift kiss on Edmund's hair. Lucy hugged Edmund tightly before following her sister out of the room.

.

Peter started to move to leave as well – he desperately needed to wash his hands of the smeared and drying blood – but something stopped him. A day before, even a few hours before, he would not have noticed it. Now, though, his senses were once more highly attuned to his brother, and he saw the slight flicker of unease in Edmund's eyes. Peter paused; he realized, almost with a jolt, that Edmund _needed_ him to stay.

He had needed him for a while. Peter thought back, remembering how he had been too caught up in his own misery to help Edmund as the younger boy struggled to readjust to England. How Edmund had been alone among Telmarines for months. How he had collapsed in the dark tunnel, slowly bleeding his life away without any hope of aid. Edmund had been alone; alone for far too long.

_No more_. Peter, rather awkwardly, set himself on his own mattress next to his brother. Edmund looked at him in confusion; Susan had been very clear in her wish that Edmund be left to his rest. Not to mention that Caspian was out among the Narnians, and Edmund likely expected Peter to be rushing to assert his authority. _Not this time_. Peter casually lay back on his mattress, head resting on one arm. "I…I think I'll stay here until you fall asleep. Make sure you don't go wandering off."

The surprise and happiness in Edmund's eyes at the old, overused joke was heartbreaking. Peter had not realized how _much_ strain Edmund had been under due to Peter's actions until it disappeared from his face. The older king looked away from his brother. After everything Peter had done, just a few soft, caring words, just a hint of unselfishness, was enough to bring a look of joy to Edmund's countenance. It wasn't right.

A thin hand gently took Peter's free one, squeezing lightly. Looking back, Peter could only smile weakly at Edmund's questioning glance. The smile seemed to be enough to reassure the younger king, at least in his tired state. Still, their hands stayed clasped, even as Edmund drifted into an exhausted, healing sleep. Only when his brother's breathing deepened did Peter slip his hand away.

Peter grimaced at the red stain he left on Edmund's palm. It seemed too much a symbol of his sins: blood on his hands staining his brother through association. Peter knew full well that Edmund would take the failure of the raid as his own fault, no matter that the blame was entirely Peter's.

"I'm sorry, Ed," Peter whispered aloud, despite knowing his brother could not hear him. He looked away, taking in a deep breath as he stood to his feet. Having fulfilled his intention to stay with Edmund until he fell asleep, it was time for Peter to leave. He had to wash his hands.

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	21. Chapter 21

**Note: **So sorry for the wait! Document Manager wasn't working yesterday for some reason, and I couldn't get the chapter uploaded. Very annoying. But, as a result, I will be posting both yesterday's chapter and today's chapter today, and then everything will be back on schedule. Actually, this might even work out better, because chapter 21 is really quite short.

**Chapter 21**

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The blood did not wash off easily. Peter scrubbed his hands until their redness was from the rough cloth and warm water, and not from holding in his brother's life. Finally, they were as clean as Peter could get them; even though he could still see the blood in his mind's eye, seeping through his fingers – mocking him for his failure as king and brother.

Peter's hands were barely dry when he caught sight of a rather harried-looking Caspian passing by the room he was in. "Caspian!" Peter saw a look of irritation cross the young king's face, which turned quickly to repentance. The High King drew up to Caspian. "I…I was wondering…" Oh, it was still hard to admit his failing and lack of knowledge! "Edmund mentioned someone named Hwella?"

It was not much of a question, but Caspian understood. "Hwella is a descendent of Edmund's friend, Philip. She treats her position as a Kingbearer with the utmost seriousness." Caspian laughed slightly. "She does not take Edmund being injured very well. I only just managed to convince her not to gallop in and disturb his rest."

Peter held back a sigh. How much had he missed by being so absorbed in himself? A descendent of Philip, Edmund's most loyal friend…He should have known. He should have known she existed, maybe used that friendship, as he had Philip's, to take care of Edmund, keep him out of trouble, away from danger.

"Peter?"

Caspian's voice brought him out of his contemplation. Peter shook his head, forcing his thoughts to move on. "We never finished our conversation from before," he commented, changing the subject. Caspian grimaced and did not quite meet Peter's eyes. Peter wondered if the other boy thought the High King would begin listing his faults or something. That was not his intent. "I think we can admit that we both made mistakes. I was hoping that we might…start over?"

"Start over?"

Peter winced at Caspian's confusion. He hated doing this sort of thing. "What I mean is: we can't change what happened. But maybe, we can move on from here and not dwell on it. Focus on what we need to do now."

Understanding dawned on Caspian and he gave a small smile. "Doctor Cornelius said something similar. I…That sounds like a good idea."

Peter nodded and the two kings stood awkwardly in the hall for a moment before Caspian excused himself and they separated. With a sigh, Peter turned and walked down the tunnel. Now he needed to do something even harder: apologize to his sisters.

~*~

It was both easier and harder than Peter expected. He had barely begun apologizing before Lucy was hugging him, assuring him that all was forgiven. It almost hurt to see the similarity between how Lucy so happily forgave him and how she had done the same with Edmund when he had first returned from the White Witch all those years ago. Still, Peter should not have been surprised that Lucy forgave so easily: it was not in her nature to hold grudges.

The same could, unfortunately, not be said about Susan. She remained silent as Peter apologized, confessing each of his mistakes and asking forgiveness. After he finished, Peter averted his eyes from Susan's cold gaze; in her words she absolved him, but he knew she was still struggling to forgive him in her heart. As they parted, Peter could only hope that Susan's gentle nature would help her overcome her anger at his prideful actions.

Peter spent the rest of the day helping the wounded and grieving Narnians, and organizing the scouts to look for signs of Telmarines reprisals. He did not let himself sulk anymore. Instead, he worked to humble himself, think of others instead of his own problems and faults. Later. Later he would repent and submit to Aslan's justice; whether before the Lion himself or before his Just King.

Night fell quickly. When he reached his room, Peter was glad to see Edmund was still fast asleep, sedated by the healing power of the fireflower cordial. Caspian, who was also readying for bed, was not so happy. "I was hoping…" Peter easily finished the dejected whisper. _I was hoping Edmund would be awake. I was hoping I could apologize._

The High King tried to give him a reassuring smile. "We have tomorrow." The assurance seemed to work and the two older kings remained silent as they finished readying for sleep. With torches extinguished, Peter listened as Caspian's breathing evened out. He wrestled his own thoughts behind mental shields, attempting to quiet his mind. Eventually he was successful; but as he drifted off, Peter could not help the grateful thought that escaped: _Thank Aslan that we still have tomorrow._

~*~

Morning came too fast. Peter did not exactly feel ready to face daylight, face his family and the Narnians after sleep had worn away the shock of the previous day. But he had to organize more defensive plans, and Peter could not leave Caspian to deal with everything alone. If anything, they needed to present a united front for the Narnians, especially with Edmund recovering from his injuries and not able to provide a cover of unity for them as he had been doing before. So Peter left a still-sleeping Edmund in the room and braced himself to face the day.

He kept busy. If the Telmarines were smart, they would hit back immediately. Without very many options left to them, the Narnians began preparing for a siege. It did not give Peter any joy as he saw Caspian begin to realize just _why_ they had rejected the idea of a defensive battle before: The How would start crumbling the moment the Telmarine siege weapons began hitting it. There was not a large enough water supply within the How for all the Narnians. They barely had enough food for the present, let alone the future. Deep down, Peter knew they would have to meet the Telmarines in pitched battle: better to die with sword in hand than beneath falling rock and hunger.

Nor did he have much time to find a different plan. By mid-day, one of the scouts, a Robin, returned. He brought news that, despite previous Narnian sabotage, the Beruna bridge was finished. The Telmarine army would reach the How by the next morning.

Peter managed to keep his facial expression calm at the news. He turned to Caspian, who had been helping him move the food supplies deeper into the How. "Will you please get Edmund? Hopefully he's fully recovered by now." Caspian nodded, giving Peter a thankful smile. There would be little time to talk personally now, so Caspian was grateful to have even a few moments to apologize to Edmund for his actions.

While Caspian left to wake Edmund, Peter himself went to find his sisters, his face grim but determined. They had a battle to plan.

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	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

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Edmund gave Susan a mock glower as she forced him to sit to the side in the larger war council instead of standing with Peter and Caspian to present their plan. While he was almost fully recovered, thanks to cordial and much-needed sleep, he also knew it was better to give in to her fussing now in order to escape it later; a warrior knows when to pick his fights.

Sitting to the side also allowed Edmund to think over the day's events while not in the main attention of the Narnians. In fact, he was still uncomfortably confounded by the changes in atmosphere and personality that permeated the How since his unfortunate, and slightly embarrassing, encounter with unconsciousness and the floor of the tunnels. Edmund was fairly certain the change had not come solely from his, regrettably harsh, words, but the others – even Lucy! – seemed to be avoiding telling him what exactly happened after he left the Stone Table room.

_Something_ happened, though. Edmund had vaguely noticed a change in Peter before falling asleep the day before, but his memories of the time were still fuzzy. More obvious, at first, was Caspian's contriteness when the older king woke him to begin planning the Narnians' next move. The boy could barely look Edmund in the eye before stammering out a sincere apology, and even winced when Edmund easily gave his forgiveness - as if Caspian expected Edmund to condemn him, even after seeing how terribly guilty the older king felt at what he had done! It was all very strange, and the smaller council had been even stranger. But they had succeeded in creating a plan to give to the larger Narnian war council.

Edmund held back a frown in said council as he listened to Trumpkin complain about the idea of Lucy seeking out Aslan on her own. He also wasn't too fond of Lucy putting herself in danger, but he understood the necessity of Aslan's presence to win this war; the fact that Susan and Caspian would be following, to make sure she got past the Telmarines, made it slightly easier for Edmund to approve.

He saw his frown matched by Caspian as Peter began explaining the plan for distracting the Telmarine army. Which led Edmund to think back on how the plan evolved…and just how much Peter especially had changed:

_"Right, so Lucy will seek out Aslan, followed by a guard, to be determined but including Susan." The council, which consisted of Peter, Edmund, Caspian, Susan, and Lucy, nodded at the High King's summation of the plan thus far. "Next, then, we need to determine how to keep the Telmarines from noticing her leaving…and hopefully put off full-scale battle as long as possible." Edmund was heartened to see Peter acting more like the High King he remembered, willingly seeking suggestions from others. More importantly, when Lucy insisted on the necessity of looking for Aslan, Peter's face had not shown anger. Instead, he looked more ashamed, and Peter had fully agreed that Aslan was their only hope._

_Caspian spoke up and Edmund noticed that his calm, contrite attitude was applied to Peter as well. He was truly humble as he said, "If I may?" Peter nodded permission and Caspian continued: "You might know this already, but there are expectations that a Telmarine king must adhere to if he is to keep power. Miraz may be a murderer, but if I could challenge him to take part in single combat, it is likely he would accept to save face and not seem a coward."_

_Edmund did not like the calculating look in Peter's eye as he answered Caspian. "That's a good idea. Except you can't be the challenger." There was no arrogance in his voice, only a clear, firm statement._

_Not that Caspian was happy with that statement. Still, he managed to hold his temper as he asked Peter, in as a polite a voice as Edmund had ever heard, why he could not fight Miraz. And Edmund agreed completely with Peter's answer._

_"It's a matter of strategy. You were raised and taught by Telmarines, under Miraz's instruction: He would know your fighting style, giving him an advantage. And, as family, he would know exactly what to say to distract you." Again, Peter spoke calmly, no tone of blame or spite. Edmund was glad to see that Caspian accepted Peter's reasoning, even if he was not happy about it. Better yet, Peter then skillfully reiterated his trust in Caspian by telling him that he hoped he would go with Susan to protect Lucy. There was no higher compliment to Caspian's skill and ability than entrusting him with the queens' safety._

_Now, with Caspian settled, it was time for Edmund to put forth his own proposal. Unfortunately, along with his calm poise, Peter had apparently also regained his ability to tell exactly what Edmund was thinking. The younger king had barely opened his mouth before Peter gave his stern, "No, Edmund."_

_Of all the attributes Peter had to reclaim, it _had _to be his blasted overprotectiveness. "Peter, strategically I'm the best choice to fight Miraz. I fight like a Narnian, but Caspian has taught me Telmarine styles, so I can better read Miraz. _And_ I've been back in Narnia longer." The last point was surprisingly a strong argument. The four months Edmund had been in Narnia had allowed him to regain much of the strength and skill he had as an adult. Though Peter was older, those months made the brothers equal in ability, if not given Edmund the advantage._

_Peter, however, did not seem to accept this as sufficient reasoning, if the unmoved expression on his face was anything to go by. "Edmund, right now you're the _one_ king we can't risk losing in a diversionary duel."_

_This made absolutely no sense to Edmund and he had no qualms about saying so. "Peter, Caspian is the king who can unite Telmarines and Narnians under one banner," he protested, "and _you're _the High King!"_

_Edmund almost shivered at the sharp, resolute look in Peter's eyes. "Yes," he admitted calmly, "but, right now, _you're _the only one whose orders the Narnians will trust without question. And if the duel should end badly, _you_ have to be the one to lead them until Aslan arrives, if they are to have any hope of surviving. _I _will fight Miraz, because _I _am the most expendable."_

_The girls, and Caspian, gaped at Peter, and Edmund actually reeled back a step, eyes wide. For the past year Edmund had wanted Peter to acknowledge his contributions, his worth as a king, as he had during their reign. Not like this, though. He did not want Peter to think that the life of the High King was worth _less_ than his brother's. "Peter…"_

_He didn't let Edmund finish his protestation. "You can't argue, after all that's happened, that the army wouldn't be wary of trusting my judgment."_

_"Or mine," insisted Caspian with a glare, not willing now to let Peter take all the blame – a new competition that Edmund would find humorous if it weren't frustrating his plans. _

_Peter nodded. "Besides, Ed," he added with a slight twinkle in his eyes. "There's something else I need you to do."_

Edmund shook himself out of his reverie as Peter finished outlying the battle plan. He saw some of the Narnians looking between him and his older brother in concern, and unfortunately had to conclude that Peter might have been right in his description of Narnian morale. Edmund silently noted to himself to spread the 'rumor' that he completely supported the High King and their plan. He fully expected that they would eventually have to fight the Telmarines, and Edmund knew - or hoped - that Peter would be the one leading that battle, so the Narnians needed to be able to trust his leadership.

As he finished speaking, Peter asked for any input on the strategy. A few Narnians asked clarifying questions. Finally, Trumpkin spoke up with a question likely on more minds than his. "This plan is all well and good. But how can you be sure that Miraz will even accept the challenge? He has all the advantages."

Peter's almost wicked smile startled the Narnians. The High King pointedly looked at his brother, and Edmund matched his brother's smug look with a grin of his own. "Oh, he'll accept. Trust me, he'll accept."

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	23. Chapter 23

**Note: **And now back to our regularly scheduled updates. But it's probably not the chapter you expected.

**Chapter 23**

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When the Telmarine army arrived at the How the next day, the Narnians were as prepared as they could be. Or, at least, Edmund _thought_ they were. Susan, however, thought that there were still some details to be decided.

"You _would_ have to ruin the only two, good Narnian shirts in the entire army that would fit you."

Lucy grinned as Edmund rolled his eyes at their older sister. "Su, I'm sure Edmund didn't get injured on purpose. And he was hardly in any condition to tell Peter to roll up his sleeves before trying to stop him from bleeding out."

Edmund and Peter shared an amused look at Susan's glare, and even Caspian held back a chuckle. Susan sighed. "I know that, Lucy. But you _know_ it would be better and more pointed if Edmund was wearing Narnian clothes, not Telmarine. And old, worn Telmarine clothes at that," she added, looking in distaste at the well-worn, seldom-washed apparel that Edmund currently had on. In truth, she was right; Susan usually was about such things. As children, thrust into ruling a country surrounded by nations with very adult rulers, the four Pevensies had quickly learned that much trouble could be avoided through proper appearance. Susan had excelled in creating imposing looks for all of them: bold and strong for Peter, dark and cunning for Edmund, deceptively innocent for Lucy, and commanding beauty for herself. It frustrated her to no end that she no longer had the tools to recreate this.

Edmund smirked. Well then, he would be happy to aid his sister in her quest to make him 'presentable' enough to challenge Miraz. "You should have mentioned that first, Susan." He motioned for the others to follow him. Peter looked at Caspian for answers, but the dark-haired king only shrugged. He had no more idea as to what Edmund was up to than anyone else.

Leading them to a room on the opposite side of the How from the Stone Table room, Edmund explained further. "Glenstorm showed me this when we first got here." He smiled apologetically at Caspian. "Apparently the room is not to be entered by anyone except the four of us, which is why I never mentioned it before. That, and it wasn't really useful before."

"Should I…?" Caspian made to leave, clearly uncomfortable, but Lucy grabbed his arm.

A look was exchanged among the four, and then Peter nodded. "You can come with us." It was a ruling from the High King, and so Caspian conceded and walked behind the Pevensies as they entered the room.

.

As Edmund lit a fire-line, the others realized that the room mirrored that of the Stone Table. Only, instead of the broken stone, three chests sat on a colorful mosaic, which was similar to the ones that had covered the floors of Cair Paravel. And there was a collective gasp when the light revealed the wall behind the chests. This relief was not of Aslan…but the Four.

At least, the Four as they had been the days right before the fateful hunt that separated them from their country. The High King stood at the center, the rock of their family staring straight at the observer. His carved hands rested lightly on a seated Susan's shoulder. The Gentle Queen held daffodils in her lap, but one hand held a flower out to Lucy, who smiled and reached back towards her sister from her place at Peter's side. Edmund was carved in lighter relief than his siblings, his lower half obscured by Susan and part of his upper body hidden by Peter's arm. But one hand rested on Peter's shoulder, the other on Susan's, and the observer got the sense that he was not so much hidden behind his siblings as supporting them. It was an almost intimate view of their family, and all were quiet as they drank in the sight.

Finally, Edmund broke the silence. "Glenstorm said the stories relate that, a few years after we disappeared, Aslan sent dreams to Sir Peridan, telling him to build the How." Sir Peridan, loyal knight and yet another friend lost to the ages. "He constructed it as he was instructed, having these reliefs carved and the chests set here." He smiled. "Even then, it seems, Aslan was preparing for when we would return."

"What's in them?" asked Lucy, her eyes still on the relief.

Edmund's smile broadened. "Come see." They approached the chests, which stood unlocked. The first two carried Peter and Edmund's royal seals respectively, while the third carried both the girls' seals. They lifted the lids in unison, and Edmund grinned at the stunned looks on the others' faces. Peter and Edmund's chests held armor; and not just any armor, but their armor from when they were the exact age and height they were again.

"Ohh," came Lucy's disappointed sigh, and everyone looked at the girls' chest.

Edmund gently squeezed his younger sister's shoulder. "Sorry, Lu. But remember, you aren't going to be in this battle." He looked at Caspian and nodded towards the dress and chain mail in the chest. "That's Lucy's, from when she was Susan's age. I guess, since Susan didn't have armor last time, Aslan had Peridan pack Lucy's for her." Edmund wasn't sure he liked this, but the determination on Susan's face told him that this was at least one thing she agreed on with Aslan.

"I don't think you're forgotten, though, Lu," broke in Peter as he reached under the chainmail.

Lucy's eyes lit up as he pulled out a long, green piece of fabric. "My cloak!" she exclaimed, and happily took it from her brother, fastening it around her neck.

Edmund saw that Caspian looked puzzled at her excitement over what looked like a plain mantle. Smirking, he reached into his own chest and pulled a dagger from one of the leather boots. "Hey, Lucy!" When she turned to look at him, Edmund held up the knife. He glanced pointedly at Caspian before quirking an eyebrow. Lucy grinned and spun around so that he was facing her back.

Caspian frowned at the exchange. "What…" He didn't get to finish, as the king threw the dagger straight at Lucy's unprotected back. "Stars in heaven!"

Lucy giggled as she turned around again, picking up the dagger from where it had fallen after glancing off her back. "Edmund had this made for me for my eleventh birthday. It's lined with a rare metal alloy, strong but light and malleable. Only one dwarf clan knew how to smelt it, and they rarely did so."

"It cost a small fortune," quipped Edmund, still grinning, "but it proved its worth. _Too_ many times," he added with a small glare at his sister.

Lucy just shrugged. "_I_ thought it was worth it just to see the look on Peter and Susan's faces when we did the same thing to them."

Caspian glanced at the older siblings. Both were scowling, but it was easy to tell that their amusement was threatening to break through. Edmund laughed and pulled his tunic out of the chest. "So, Susan. Does it meet your approval?"

Susan threw her bracer at him and smiled.

~*~

Unlike Peter's heavier armor, the light quality of Edmund's meant he could fairly quickly don it by himself. It was not long before he stood at the entrance of the How with Glenstorm and Giant Wimbleweather, who were accompanying him to the Telmarine camp. The centaur general was not very pleased with the young king at the moment. "Your majesty, since we are escorting you as your guards, we should walk at your side to protect you," he insisted.

Edmund would not budge. "No, General. We need to throw the Telmarines off their guard however possible. It will confuse them that the primary Narnian ambassador – and a king at that - does not follow the normal procedure of being flanked by soldiers." It might also make them think twice about their estimation of Edmund's abilities. The smarter ones might be more inclined to be wary of an ambassador who saw no need for bodyguards save as ceremonial assistants.

Over a month in Edmund's company meant Glenstorm knew his argument was hopeless. The centaur sighed in resignation. "Very well, sire."

That settled, the delegation was ready to depart. Edmund looked at the four worried faces that watched him, and had to stop himself from frowning. _This _was why he refused to say goodbye when leaving his family. They worried enough at the separation that he was disinclined to add to that worry with any hint that he would not see them again.

So he forced a smile on his face and waved. "We should be back by dinner." He paused. "Unless the Telmarines have cake. Then we might have to stay and take advantage of diplomatic privilege to eat their food." Caspian looked bewildered at the apparent non sequitur, but smiles cracked through Peter and Susan's worried expressions, and Lucy even laughed, so it was enough.

Turning from his family, Edmund fixed his face into a calm, emotionless mask. The persona of King Edmund the Just settled on his shoulders, ready for the confrontation that would soon follow. So, with heads held high, the three Narnians set off for the Telmarine encampment to deliver their challenge.

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	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

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Edmund kept his expression impassive as General Glozelle introduced him to Miraz and the Telmarine lords. As expected, Glenstorm and Wimbleweather were forced to wait outside the tent, leaving Edmund wholly alone to face the enemy.

Just as he liked it.

"My lords, the Narnian ambassador."

Miraz's face was smug as Glozelle let Edmund past. "So," the usurper began, "the Narnians send a stableboy as their envoy?"

Edmund tried not to roll his eyes. Really, he couldn't find a better, more subtle insult? After all, Edmund knew full well that General Glozelle would have related the entirety of their mid-duel conversation to Miraz. The Telmarine was just insulting both their intelligences by pretending otherwise. "I am King Edmund the Just of Narnia…"

"Ah, yes," came Miraz's too-quick interruption. "The one who claims to be 'Prince Darksilver', the fairy-tale Giant who could kill ten men with one swing of his sword and," Miraz scoffed, "who breathed poison from his mouth." The usurper laughed, as did most of the lords. Obviously, Miraz meant to ridicule the Narnians through their ambassador, make Edmund flustered and decrease his authority as a Narnian king.

Edmund, though, just smiled pleasantly. "The rumors of my height are greatly exaggerated," was his simple response.

The laughter turned slightly nervous as the Telmarines processed what he was _not _saying. Several of the lords began glancing at each other, seeking assurance that they were truly hearing the implications of Edmund's words: after all, he had not denied any of the jeering charges save the height of a Giant. Edmund suppressed a laugh as one of the lords shifted his chair away from the Narnian. Poisonous breath, indeed!

Miraz cleared his throat to take back control of the audience. "What is it you want?"

"I am here on behalf of my brother, High King Peter of Narnia, who sends a message to the Lord Protector." There was no way he was going to address Miraz as king, but it was hardly politic to address someone as 'Usurper'. Just calling him by his former title would be insult enough.

Miraz's mouth tightened at the slight, but he just lifted his hand. "Please, read the message. We are interested to hear what this…_High King_ has to say."

Unrolling the scroll, Edmund read out the challenge. Of course, that was more for show, as he could have recited it off the top of his head with ease. It _was_ the standard challenge he had composed years ago, with only slight alterations. Still, one had to go through the motions.

When he finished – the fight shall be to the death, the reward shall be total surrender – Edmund calmly rolled up the scroll, as if it were a formality and he fully expected Miraz to simply accept without questions.

Not that he _actually _expected this to happen, and he was right. "Tell me, Prince Edmund…"

"King," he corrected sharply, only glancing up for a moment before going back to rolling the scroll. Blasted thing took forever.

"Pardon?" asked Miraz, annoyed at the interruption.

Edmund finally finished with the scroll and focused on his opponent. "It's _King_ Edmund." He smiled as he added, "Or Prince Darksilver, if you prefer."

There was fury in Miraz's eyes at the mocking correction of his slip of the tongue. Edmund noted with approval, however, that Miraz didn't lash out, though his voice was soft and tight as he held his anger back. "Why," he continued, "would we risk such a proposal when our army could wipe you out by nightfall?"

It was a valid point, which was why Peter had insisted Edmund be the ambassador. _Time to put The Plan into motion. _"Haven't you already underestimated our numbers? Not too long ago, Narnians were either extinct or a fairy tale." _Breed doubt of our abilities, check. Mock Miraz by bringing up fairy tales again, check._

"And so you will be again," threatened Miraz. Edmund was quite certain that the Telmarine wanted to start with him, and at that very moment. Too bad.

"Then you should have little to fear." Edmund was proud of the slight rush in his response. It was always useful to follow up mocking with a hint of uncertainty. A good negotiator knew when to give a little to his opponent.

And Miraz took the bait, laughing as Edmund seemed to make an amateur mistake. "This is not a question of bravery."

_Right into my hands. _"So you're _bravely_ refusing to fight a swordsman half your age?"

The look on Miraz's face was priceless. Edmund had just managed to impugn his honor, abilities, and courage in front of his lords, meaning Miraz now had to backtrack to save face. "I didn't say I refused."

That was when the discussion got interesting. Edmund had come in fully prepared to pull an acceptance from Miraz without any help (and he was almost disappointed that he didn't even have to use his best weapons). He had half-expected Lord Sopespian to do something – the man was nothing if not conniving and ambitious – but this was better than he had hoped. The Telmarine lords were harrying their king on all sides, and Edmund just watched in amusement as Miraz quickly lost control of his choice in the matter.

The big surprise, though, was that the final words that solidified the usurper's doom belonged to Glozelle. Edmund could not keep himself from looking back at the Telmarine general in confusion. What had happened that Miraz's loyal second would throw his lot in with the likes of Sopespian? The grim look in Glozelle's eyes spoke volumes, but not specifics.

"You!" Edmund turned back to Miraz, whose face was red with anger as he pointed his sword at the Narnian king. "You should hope your brother's sword is sharper than his pen."

Edmund just grinned.

~*~

General Glozelle escorted the Narnians to the edge of the camp. It amused Edmund to see how the Telmarine soldiers shied away from them. He even thought he heard some of them whispering 'Prince Darksilver'; apparently rumors traveled fast. And if it made the Telmarines hesitate in engaging the Narnians in battle, all the better.

They reached the perimeter of the camp and stopped. From here, Glozelle would take his leave and return to Miraz. Not, however, before Edmund could corner him with a question.

"Tell me, General, why do you wish your lord dead?"

The Telmarine's eyes widened. "I do not know what you mean. I have…full confidence that King Miraz with be victorious in this duel."

Edmund smiled. The man was used to following orders, it seemed, not involving himself in the intricacies of political intrigue. "I would not be so confident, General. However, I wasn't talking about Miraz." _That _got Edmund an even better reaction. "For the entire time I was…employed at the castle, you were in charge of Caspian's safety. And you were committed to that. I could tell you cared about him, and were not just following your duty to protect your king." Glozelle would not meet Edmund's eyes and visibly flinched at the reminder that Caspian, by rights, should have been king since his father's death. "And yet, Caspian told me that you came into his bedroom to kill him as he slept, without hesitation. So I'll ask again: why do you wish your lord dead?"

Glozelle struggled to keep his face impassive. "I followed Lord Miraz's orders. My loyalty is to him."

"It was then. Is it now?" Glozelle's determined stance deflated and Edmund saw how obeying the will of Miraz had sucked life from the general over the years, until now he was shell of the man he was once. Sympathy was in Edmund's words as he continued. "General, there is no honor in allegiance to an unjust lord. Nor in changing loyalties to one who serves only himself."

Glozelle's eyes narrowed at the veiled reference to Lord Sopespian. "My loyalty is no concern to you. Miraz will win the duel and I will fight under his banner."

Edmund ignored this, plowing ahead without stopping. "Are you so afraid of Caspian?"

"What?" Glozelle hissed, eyes burning with anger at the insinuation of cowardice. He had long forgotten that he should not be engaging in such a conversation with the enemy, something Edmund was using to his advantage.

"You kept your loyalty to Miraz until it was too much for you to continue. But instead of changing your loyalty to Caspian…" Edmund trailed off, knowing Glozelle could easily finish the sentence himself.

Glozelle looked positively ashamed. "I…after all I have done, I cannot expect Caspian to accept my allegiance." The Telmarine grimaced. "You Narnians are too noble for that."

"General." The tone in Edmund's voice forced Glozelle to look up. The Telmarine was startled by the intensity in the boy's dark eyes as he spoke. "General, you seem to be under the impression that treason is unforgiveable, no matter how repentant a person may be."

The Telmarine general nodded. "That is true."

"And yet, here I stand before you: a king of Narnia and loyal servant of the King I betrayed. "

Glozelle's eyes widened in shock. Apparently that story had not survived in the fairy tales. "What?"

Edmund's look silenced the man. "You know what the right thing to do is. I pray Aslan give you the strength to follow through." With that, he turned to Glenstorm and Wimbleweather who were patiently 'not listening' while the conversation progressed. "It's time to go. Peter will be starting to worry." Edmund turned back to the speechless Glozelle. "Lion be with you, General."

And the Narnians left, successful in their mission, leaving a thunderstruck Telmarine general behind them.

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	25. Chapter 25

**Note: **I mention a few pieces of armor in this section. If it's unclear what they are (hopefully it's well explained, but who knows), there's a list of definitions at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter 25**

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_"I'd like it, Caspian, if you helped Susan protect Lucy."_

_"Edmund, right now you're the _one_ king we can't risk losing…"_

_"If the duel should end badly, _you_ have to be the one to lead them."_

_"Watch out for yourself, Ed. I don't trust them not to try something, and there's only three of you."_

_"Of course he accepted, Caspian; Edmund brought the challenge."_

_"If you think Glozelle might be wavering, I trust your judgment."_

.

Edmund shook his head to clear his mind as he tightened his leather vambraces. As much as he liked having the old Peter back, he couldn't help but worry about the abrupt change. It was…_too_ good. Like Peter was trying too hard, burying his emotions and showing the façade of the High King. And Edmund knew that this wasn't a good thing. Burying emotions was how _he _dealt with problems and it was a coping mechanism that served him well. Peter, though, needed to unleash them; his feelings were too volatile to be clamped down on for long. Edmund almost hated himself for thinking that volatility might actually be helpful, if used against Miraz in the duel – helpful, but dangerous for Peter.

Speaking of Peter and the duel…Edmund glance over at the trunk next to his, still full of armor. If Peter was actually going to _fight _this duel today, he needed to get ready, not be going over the plan for the umpteenth time with the Narnian captains. Luckily, Edmund was not above throwing his weight around to get Peter away from the over-anxious captains, which he did the moment he entered the council room.

"Forgive the interruption, my good Narnians, but the High King is needed elsewhere. Peter, Caspian and the girls are supplied and getting ready to head towards the side entrance."

The older king hid his relief at the summons. "Excuse me, friends. I believe you have everything in control here, anyway." Of course, the captains could not refuse and Peter was able to make his escape.

Calmly striding out of the room, the two brothers walked in silence to where their sisters and Caspian waited. Lucy was a picture of readiness, though both Susan and Caspian's faces were tight with worry and nerves. When Peter and Edmund appeared, Lucy practically launched herself at her eldest brother. "You be careful, Peter, since you won't let me leave my cordial with you. You are _not_ allowed to get seriously injured if I'm not there." After Peter finished hugging her and ensuring he would be extra cautious, Lucy released him and flew into Edmund's arms. "And _you_ aren't to get injured trying to make sure Peter doesn't get hurt." She knew them both too well, so Edmund knew she wasn't surprised when he did not promise anything; he simply hugged her back tightly. With one last squeeze, Lucy pulled away and smiled. "I know we didn't have time to pray in the Stone Table room, but I figure the fact that we're seeking Aslan out now is better anyway."

Edmund returned to smile, and looked over to where Susan and Peter were saying farewell. He could tell that there was still lingering tension between them, but he was glad they weren't letting it overtake their actions. Their embrace was stiff, but heartfelt, and Susan's "Be safe" was laced with genuine worry. Then their dark-haired sister moved on to Edmund. "Since you refuse to say good-bye, I'll just say be careful. No heroics, if you please."

Laughing, Edmund embraced Susan. "I should say the same to you. And don't hesitate to call for help if you need it." Seeing the horn on her belt again had been a pleasant surprise. It also explained why Susan's anger towards Caspian had eased: apparently a sincere apology and the return of her gift had helped settled things between them.

Peter and Caspian's farewells were short, but not unpleasant:

"Take care of them."

"I will. And good luck."

"Thanks. You too."

He really needed to figure out exactly what had happened between those two that made Caspian not able to look Peter in the eyes, and made Peter act so jumpy whenever Caspian was near. That would have to wait until later, though. Instead, Edmund just clasped Caspian's shoulder and smiled. "Lion be with you."

"And you," returned the older boy, though his smile was still more tense and uncertain.

Again, there was no time to do anything about that. "Well, you had better be off. And Peter here needs to get ready if he doesn't want to fight Miraz in his shirt-sleeves."

Despite his insistence on maintaining the pretense that they would all meet again in victory, Edmund was well-aware that the entire plan could easily fail, and that especially he and Peter were just as likely to die as to live before the day was over. The others were just as aware, and so under the comforting smiles ran a current of unease and gloom. But Edmund kept smiling, even as he watched Caspian and the girls disappear down the tunnels to where the horses were being prepared. Then, biting his bottom lip, Edmund turned to his brother…only to find that Peter had already slipped away, without him noticing. For a moment he blinked, puzzled. Where on earth…?

Though not sure why Peter would want to leave unnoticed, after a moment's thought, Edmund was fairly certain he knew _where_ he went. Obviously Peter needed to get ready for the duel, which meant he would be in the small room set aside for arming. Edmund made his own way toward the room, only to be accosted by Hwella.

The mare was not a happy Horse. "My king, General Glenstorm informed me that you will not have your shield and helmet available should the duel end badly."

Her disapproval was obvious. Edmund sighed and gave her the same argument he had given Glenstorm. "Traditionally, I carry Rhindon for Peter until we reach the field of combat. It would be unwieldy to carry both it and my shield. And it would be too obviously a slight to the duel truce if I had it already there: it implies we don't trust the Telmarines to keep the bargain. The same with wearing a helmet."

Hwella continued to express her displeasure, especially considering the Narnians _didn't_ trust the Telmarines to keep the terms of the duel. But Edmund refused to back down, and Hwella reluctantly dropped the subject, muttering about the High King and plans as she left. Edmund might have been intrigued or nervous about this, but he was focused on finding his brother. He could deal with anything Hwella might throw at him later.

~*~

Finally reaching his destination, Edmund slipped silently into the room. Peter was already wearing his gambeson and had just finished pulling his chain mail chausses over his trousers. Vanius, a satyr lieutenant, was there, handing the High King his hauberk. As Peter tugged the chain-mail shirt over his head, Edmund silently placed a hand on Vanius's arm, asking with a jerk of his head that the satyr leave them. Understanding, Vanius nodded and slipped away.

Edmund turned to face his brother, and hid a smile behind a hand as he saw Peter's predicament. The High King was cursing something fierce as blond locks tangled with steel rings. This inevitably happened every single time Peter put on chain mail. Edmund himself could slip on his hauberk without a problem, but for some reason, no matter how careful he was, Peter always caught his hair in the rings of the mail.

Stifling a laugh, Edmund stepped towards Peter, gently untangling the golden strands as he had so many times before. The High King stilled, letting Edmund's fingers work until he could pull the rest of his head through. Blue eyes appeared and stared at Edmund with what looked like surprise, guilt, and even a little…fear? Ignoring his own curiosity about these emotions, Edmund pulled the scarlet tunic over Peter's head, its golden lion proclaiming the identity of Narnia's true protector and the King before whom even the High King bowed.

Neither spoke as Edmund settled the coif around Peter's neck so that it could easily be pulled over his head later. Then came the spaulders, which Edmund adjusted on Peter's shoulders, securing them with ease of practice. Deciding to leave arm guards for last, Edmund gently pushed Peter to sit on one of the stone seats. The High King had been moving automatically so far, eyes never leaving his brother; but he did not speak, even as he sat rather uncomfortably in full mail. It was disconcerting to Edmund, actually. Though they never really _chatted_ while arming, usually there was a comfortable warmth between the brothers, not this cold uncertainty. Still, at least Peter was allowing him to help, instead of trying to do everything himself.

That is, Peter allowed it without objection until Edmund knelt before him in order to place the greaves and sollerets around Peter's lower legs and feet. Blue eyes widened, and Peter leaned forward, grabbing Edmund's wrist. "I can get them, Edmund, just…you can get up."

Edmund calmly pried his brother's fingers off his arm. "Don't be an idiot; I can get them much easier. Besides, I've done this dozens of times before and you never objected." He continued with his work despite Peter clearly being uneasy with, what? – Edmund touching his feet? Helping him arm himself? Kneeling before…

Edmund tried not to physically tense as he realized what was wrong, why Peter had not sought him out to help with his armor, why he was so uncomfortable now. It was the same problem Edmund had run into during the battle planning: Peter no longer puffed with intense pride; instead he had fallen too far the other way, and did not think he was worthy of Edmund's concern and help. Worthy of Edmund acting as his armor bearer and servant, as he had during the many battles of their reign.

_Well, too bad, Peter. I'm not going anywhere. _Finishing with the sollerets, Edmund helped Peter stand again before starting on the left vambrace. As he tied the metal plates, Edmund finally broke the silence, his voice clear and calm as he reiterated previous advice. "Remember, Miraz only gives the show of chivalrous dueling. He'll be taking any opportunity he can to inflict injury, so don't expect him to keep to traditional maneuvers. If you get knocked down, roll away immediately; keep moving and out of his reach if possible. He goes for brute force, so you can probably dance around and tire him out." Edmund was quite thankful he had taken the risk of spying on Miraz's daily practice during his time at the Beaversdam castle; it gave him a better insight to the Usurper's fighting style and ability. And Peter could use any advantage he could get: Miraz might be a tyrannical murderer, but he was also a talented – and ruthless – warrior. Beating him would not be easy, regardless of Peter's skill.

Peter knew this as well, judging by the troubled look on his face as Edmund moved from the vambrace to putting on the right gauntlet. "Edmund, I need to say something before…ouch, too tight!"

Edmund nonchalantly pulled the leather laces tighter for a moment, just to make sure his point was taken. "Well, you should know better than to try and pull any of that 'if I don't survive this' stuff on me."

"Our chances…"

"I know!" snapped Edmund with a glare. "But chances and odds and luck have absolutely nothing to do with success, Peter. You're going to win, Lucy will find Aslan, and we'll be celebrating victory before nightfall. After that, I promise, I'll sit and listen to you blather about whatever it is you're feeling needlessly guilty about."

Peter shook his head, clearly frustrated. "You know it doesn't work like that, Ed. And I don't want to die without…"

He was stopped as Edmund abruptly dropped his gauntleted hand and firmly grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet the younger king's gaze. Dark, fierce eyes blazed like fire. "You are _not_ going to die. If you have the slightest doubt in your ability to win, _I_ will duel Miraz and hang your _idiotic _reasonings why I shouldn't."

"Ed…" The younger king squeezed tighter and Peter sighed. "Fine. But _promise_ we'll talk after?"

Edmund could never ignore the desperate plea in Peter's eyes. "I promise. _After_." Letting go of Peter's chin, Edmund gently pulled the coif over his head, careful not to catch any strands of golden hair. Then came the final pieces: the helmet engraved with oak leaves, and the shield from Father Christmas emblazoned with Peter's coat of arms of _argent a lion rampant gules_.

The High King was ready and it was time.

Edmund picked up a sheathed Rhindon, surreptitiously brushing the lion's head pommel in blessing and prayer. He looked up at Peter. "Ready?"

Peter nodded and the two kings walked to the main entrance of the How in silence. They could hear the cheering from outside, Telmarines and Narnians gearing up for the fate-filled fight. Peter paused and looked at Edmund, who stood behind and to his right side. "After we win," he insisted again, reiterating Edmund's promise.

"After we win."

And together they stepped into the sunlight.

* * *

.

For those who don't have time to spend hours looking up armor pieces:

gambeson - padded undertunic  
chauses - chain mail leggings  
hauberk - chain mail shirt reaching the thighs and including sleeves  
coif - the chain mail hood that Peter wears for such a limited time in the movie...  
spaulders - armored plates worn on the shoulders. The difference between spaulders and pauldrons is that pauldrons cover armholes. Deciding whether Peter was wearing pauldrons or spaulders took me hours, and I'm still not sure I got it right.  
greaves - plate armor around the legs. Technically, I believe Peter wears half-greaves, as his thighs are only protected by mail (am I right?)  
sollerets - armor that covers the foot  
vambrace - armor for fore-arm  
gauntlet - armored glove (which technically I think Peter wears with a a vambrace, but I'm just considering it the same piece of armor)


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

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Edmund winced as a powerful blow from Miraz's shield knocked Peter's helmet off. A hit like that was sure to disorient the younger combatant, and sure enough, Peter was barely able to block the next few strikes.

The duel had been going badly for the High King from the start. His initial strikes had been given using a fighting style that used agility more than strength. After a few jarring hits from Miraz, however, he had fallen back to his usual moves. Unfortunately they were the usual moves from when Peter had been a fully-grown man with a dozen years of strength-training behind him. Now, blow for blow, Miraz had the advantage.

But when Peter remembered to use speed instead of strength….Edmund smiled as Peter proved his point. _He can get through Miraz's defenses and slice at his unprotected legs, just like that. _As Miraz howled with pain, Edmund's smile faltered. Miraz was sending a fierce look, not to Peter, but to Glozelle.

The Telmarine general's hands tightened on the crossbow he held, much to Edmund's alarm. He tensed, readying himself to jump forward into the field of combat at the slightest twitch of Glozelle's fingers. His movement must have caught the general's attention, and Glozelle met his eyes. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like forever before Glozelle nodded at Edmund, hands lowering the crossbow. Edmund breathed a sigh of relief; clearly Glozelle remembered their own duel, or perhaps even the words the Just King had spoken at the Telmarine camp.

Edmund turned his attention back to the field just in time to grimace as Peter was knocked to the ground, barely rolling in time to miss Miraz's foot coming down with full force. _At least he remembered _some_ of what I told him_. Peter quickly scrambled up, but only got to his knees before Miraz brought his sword down on the High King's back. Thankfully it glanced off his right spaulder. It was a painful blow, but Peter managed to breathe through it and roll into Miraz's knees.

The Telmarine fell over Peter, jarring his shoulder against the hard stone of the field of combat. Peter tried a backhand stroke from the ground, but Miraz gathered his wits to block it. The two clambered to their feet, both combatants breathing hard from heat and exertion.

Edmund frowned as neither warrior moved to strike, though both were at the ready. He looked beyond the field and saw what must have caught Peter's attention: Susan and Caspian were riding in from the woods on their horses. Worry caught in Edmund's throat. Lucy wasn't with them; which meant she had either gotten through the Telmarine line, or…

He shook his head. There wasn't time to think, he had to focus on Peter, who was now limping to their side after having apparently called for a respite. As Edmund helped Peter, picking up his helmet and supporting his back, Caspian and Susan dismounted and hurried towards them. They didn't even have to ask before Caspian reassured them: "She got through, do not worry."

Edmund was sure the relief in his eyes mirrored Peter's. The blond king nodded. "Good work. Are either of you hurt?"

Susan shook her head. "We're fine. Which is more than can be said for the Telmarines." She gave Peter a concerned look. "Or you, for that matter."

Peter brushed off her worry. "You better take a place with the archers. I don't expect the Telmarines are going to keep their word." So Peter had noticed the crossbow as well.

Susan bit her lip, then moved forward, pulling Peter into a gentle hug. "Be careful Peter. I…" She didn't finish, but Edmund knew what she wanted to say. It's what each of them thought whenever one of the siblings was in danger. _I don't want to lose you_. They never said it aloud, as if not to tempt fate, but it was always there under the surface.

Peter's face reflected Susan's distress, and Edmund almost instinctively felt the Narnians grow uneasy. Their king and queen were acting as if things were hopeless, and it was affecting morale. "Keep smiling," he cautioned them, a phrase used often to remind one another to continue showing the royal mask. So as Susan ran to join the archers, Peter saluted the Narnian army with his sword, bright, false smile on his face. Edmund smiled as well, and a rough nudge forced Caspian to do the same.

As the cheers of the Narnians faded, Edmund and Caspian helped Peter sit on a fallen rock, removing sword and shield so they could look him over better. Peter hissed as Edmund kneaded at his right shoulder-blade. "It's bruised, but doesn't feel broken."

"Anywhere else?"

Peter shook his head. "That's the worst." He gratefully took a canteen from Caspian, who hurried to clean the bits of blood off Rhindon. As he did this, Peter turned to look at Edmund as he busily readjusted and tightened his armor. Edmund did not like that look. It was a look of trepidation and resignation; one showing that Peter was all-too aware of how dire the situation was at the moment. Peter breathed in and squared his shoulders as he spoke. "I know you don't want me to say it…"

"Be quiet, Peter," Edmund warned, eyes narrowing.

Peter shook his head. "Edmund, please, I need to tell you…"

"No!" hissed the younger boy. He grabbed Peter's good shoulder and brought his mouth close to the older king's ear so that only he would hear the fierce whisper. "Now you listen to me, Peter. When I said that you won't die, I bloody well meant it. _You will not die. _I swear by _Aslan_, you will not die, even if I have to break every rule of combat and honor to make sure of it! Understood?"

Peter's eyes widened, shocked that the Just King would even suggest interfering in the duel. "Ed…"

"_Understood?_"

Reluctantly Peter nodded and Edmund pulled back. The respite was ending, so Caspian handed Rhindon back to Peter, as did Edmund the shield. When he offered Peter his helm, it was refused; understandably, since the helmet tended to block Peter's vision as well as cause overheating. It was still a dangerous choice, since a blow to the head could easily be fatal. Edmund was relieved, however, when he saw Miraz refuse his own helmet out of arrogance; it evened the odds a bit more.

Peter entered the field with almost shocking vigor, his eyes hard and cold. He rained blow upon blow down on Miraz with abandon, forcing the shocked Telmarine back. On the side of the field, Caspian turned to look at Edmund. "What did you say to him? He fights as if he is possessed!"

Edmund kept his eyes on the duel, watching as Peter gave an angry yell when he hit Miraz's spaulders with a ringing strike. "I just told him what he needed to hear." He would not say more. There was no need to confess to Caspian that the Just King had sworn such an unjust act.

It brought bile to his mouth just thinking about his oath, but Edmund refused to recant, especially seeing its effects on Peter. The High King now fought like a demon: not for his own life or for Narnia, but for the sake of his brother's soul. Peter knew as well as Edmund that for the younger king to take such an action as sworn would be tantamount to murder; as the only way to save Peter's life would be to take Miraz's without any warning or challenge. To do such a thing…it went against every aspect of justice and righteousness. It went against ever fiber of the Just King's being.

But he would do it. If it meant Peter lived, Edmund would destroy himself. And Peter knew this, which was why he was now fighting with such ferocity: he did not want to allow a situation where Edmund would see fit to make good on his oath.

That determination gave Peter new strength, and he was putting it to good use. Edmund could easily see that Peter had changed styles again. He was fighting strength with speed, avoiding blows with quick steps, forcing Miraz to expend energy trying to catch him and avoid Peter's quick stabs and strikes. It was a balance, though, as Peter expended more energy himself for the necessary speed. He needed to wear Miraz down before the exertion became too much.

Edmund choked and he heard Caspian swear in shock as Peter deliberately discarded his shield. The younger king might have to start doubting the usefulness of his words, if it made Peter do something like _that_. Yet it seemed to work, since the decrease in weight and bulk allowed Peter to dance around the Telmarine with greater agility.

Miraz was faltering. He was barely able to turn and block the High King's strikes, let alone try to get in his own hits. Repeated blows rained on him. The heat, the exhaustion, the pain finally got to Miraz and he fell to his knees, sword clanging on the ground beside him. "Respite," he coughed desperately. "Respite."

Gritting his teeth, Edmund tried not to groan as Peter held back, giving consideration to Miraz's request. It was wrongly asked for: by the standards of most duels, respites could only be called when both combatants were armed and standing. Edmund wanted desperately to yell for Peter to ignore the request, but could not bring himself to do so. He had already disgraced himself with his oath; to do more would damn him further.

Peter, showing the nobility of the High King he was once more, lowered his sword and began walking towards Edmund and Caspian. Fatigue lined Peter's face, and Edmund prayed this duel ended soon, for he did not think his brother could handle much more. In fact, Edmund was so busy looking over Peter for any injuries he hadn't seen, that he was caught off guard when Caspian shouted, "Watch out!"

Looking up sharply past Peter, Edmund saw Miraz on his feet, lifting his sword to strike at Peter's head. Edmund stepped forward, reaching for his own sword, but Peter was already turning and bringing Rhindon up to block the strike. The next few moments were a blur, as Peter quickly disarmed Miraz and, bringing Rhindon down with full force, sliced deeply through the usurper's neck. With his face betraying no emotion, Peter ripped his sword away from where it had lodged in flesh, muscle, and bone, the force of which caused Miraz's body to collapse lifeless on the ground.

Silence fell. The Narnians were shocked at the treachery of Miraz's attack, while the Telmarines could hardly believe their king had lost. Edmund looked at Caspian: his face was pale, wide eyes not leaving his uncle's body. It was clear that he did not know how to react. The anger he held against Miraz for his father's murder, for the persecution of the Narnians, and for his own exile conflicted with the fact that his uncle, one of the few relatives he had known in his life, was dead. Edmund laid a comforting hand on Caspian's arm; there was nothing he could say to help him with that conflict.

Instead, the silence was broken when Glozelle stepped forward and addressed Peter. "Sir knight, what do you will?" He was not questioning the terms of the duel – those he already knew. However, in Telmarine culture, Caspian had explained, it was the winner's prerogative to deal with the body as he saw fit: whether to merely strip it of the costly armor, or take the corpse as a trophy. Edmund was unsurprised when Peter did not answer; instead he turned partway to look at Caspian. Only when Edmund squeezed his arm did Caspian look up and realize that Peter was handing the decision to him.

Caspian stepped forward, his gait faltering slightly as he drew nearer his uncle's lifeless body. Peter moved pass him to stand by Edmund and watch, his face giving no hint to aid Caspian in his choice. Though the Narnians considered this tradition barbaric, Peter apparently felt that it was not for him to decide how to deal with it.

No, Caspian had to choose what satisfaction he would take. For a long moment he just stared at Miraz's corpse. Then, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin, he answered Glozelle in a clear voice. "General, have the body returned to my aunt. It is only right that she be able to grieve him properly, despite his actions." His voice lowered to a pained whisper. "And he was my uncle."

As Caspian returned to their side to loud cheers from the Narnian army, Edmund kept his eyes on a stunned Glozelle. The Telmarine was clearly astonished that Caspian would allow an honorable burial for who would now be considered a traitor. From what Edmund understood of Telmarine history, this was almost unheard of. Glozelle caught his gaze and Edmund raised an eyebrow as if to say 'Do you see now what I told you is true?' Hesitating slightly, Glozelle nodded.

In fact, Edmund was fairly certain that Glozelle would have done more than acknowledge this, perhaps even declared his support for Caspian. Unfortunately, at that moment everything fell apart with a gargled cry. All heads turned to the Telmarine side of the field where one of the marshals – Lord Gregoire, if Edmund remembered correctly – fell to the ground, one of Susan's red-fletched arrows sticking out of his throat. Edmund's forehead creased in confusion; he knew Susan would not have shot without provocation, and Lord Gregoire did not seem to be even holding a weapon.

His confusion cleared, though, when Lord Sopespian began shouting. "Treachery! They've broken the terms of combat and murdered Lord Gregoire!" Dishonesty radiated from the man, but Edmund was too far away to stop and confront him; instead, Sopespian rushed to his horse and began galloping, almost certainly to rally his troops.

Edmund tore his eyes away to look at Glozelle, who was hurrying to his own horse. "General!" he called, not even sure what he could say. He had no proof that Sopespian was responsible, no proof that he himself had not been a complete hypocrite during their own duel, for deriding Telmarine interference. Glozelle turned and looked at him for a moment, and Edmund could not read his gaze, did not know if Glozelle could read his. But the Telmarine turned away, hastening back to his lines, and Edmund could only presume that Glozelle had made his own choice.

"Ed, come on!" shouted Peter as he dashed towards the front of the ruin where the duel had taken place. Edmund automatically ran to his side, vaguely noticing that Caspian had mounted his horse and was heading towards the How for his own preparations. Focusing his mind, Edmund surveyed the marshalling Telmarine army. Likely they would try to soften them with – yes, here come the war machines, throwing their stones against the How. Edmund blinked back the dust from his eyes. First the war machines. Then cavalry, and then infantry to overwhelm the remnants. Edmund knew the strength of the Narnian forces, and knew that they would not be able to stand against this attack, not forever.

Edmund looked over at Peter, who glanced back at him with grim eyes. If Lucy failed, if Aslan didn't come…this was the end. Edmund nodded at his brother. "After," he almost whispered, but Peter still heard him and gave him a questioning look. Edmund didn't explain further, only stared at Peter with a calm promise in his gaze until understanding dawned on his older brother's face. Edmund had vowed that they would speak together after the battle was over, that they would clear whatever shadows still remained between them. And they would do so, no matter what the outcome may be: even if they were in Aslan's Country, Edmund would keep his promise.

Peter nodded back, and then turned his attention to the field as the Telmarine cavalry advanced, and the faint echoes of a war-horn sounded under their feet. The countdown to their fate had begun.

* * *


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

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The wait seemed too-long and too-short at the same time. The timing depended on Caspian and his battalion now; Peter and Edmund could only watch as the Telmarine cavalry drew closer, steel themselves against the imminent onslaught. As he tried to see though the dust, Edmund tensed. "Peter, they kept a squadron of horsemen back."

He could almost see Peter's mind reaching the same alarming conclusion. They had thought the Telmarines would be arrogant enough to advance their entire regiment of cavalry; their trap depended on catching the horsemen between First Battalion, led by Peter and Edmund, and Caspian's Second Battalion. An entire squadron of cavalry, however, could trap Second Battalion once they emerged. There was no stopping the plan now, though. The ground was already starting to crumble beneath the pounding of hooves.

The sound of lighter hooves from behind reached Edmund's ears, and he turned to see Hwella trot up to his side. She didn't even have to speak, he could see that she intended for him to ride on her in the battle. The sounds of collapsing ground and wounded men were in his ears as he shook his head. "Hwella…"

"It is the High King's orders, my king." Her words were smug, as she knew that Edmund would not likely argue against _that_.

Edmund turned sharply to look at Peter, who nodded. Frowning, Edmund held back a sigh. Figures. It seemed that Peter was now conspiring with Hwella, as he had with Philip all those years ago, thinking the Horse might be able to keep Edmund out of trouble. Admittedly, they had a point, since Edmund had a tendency to be reckless with his own safety. By riding in battle, he was kept from risks he might otherwise have taken had he not had to look out for his mount's safety as well. But it was still frustrating whenever he ended up bearing the brunt of conspiracy.

Peter smiled grimly as arrows flew over their heads and into the ranks of fallen Telmarines. "Go. Do what you do best." At Edmund's questioning look, Peter's eyes twinkled. "Be creative."

Edmund was about to complain that he didn't know what Peter was talking about when he caught sight of the crossbow Glozelle had left in his haste, and an idea came to him. With a grin at Peter, Edmund scooped up the crossbow and mounted Hwella with a running jump as the Mare began her charge.

The rest of the Narnians followed Peter's command and the battle was engaged. Using a trick he had learned from Caspian, Edmund double-loaded the crossbow, able to use two hands as Hwella steered their course towards the collapsed ground. Edmund let the bolts fly with rapid-fire, letting him take out more Telmarines before having to reload.

Once out of bolts, Edmund tossed the crossbow aside and grabbed a halberd that had stuck in the ground when its satyr owner fell. He used the long, bladed weapon to strike at the enemy, particularly to knock those who were still mounted off their horses, so that the smaller Animals could finish them off. Edmund easily fell back into the mindset of a warrior, never thinking about the men behind the silver masks; who they might be, or even if he knew them from his time in the Beaversdam stables. Now they were only the enemy, and so he sliced without thought of the blood he spilled on the ground.

Pulling away from the heart of the melee, Edmund took a quick glance around the field to survey their situation. Caspian and Second Battalion had joined with First Battalion. While the Narnians were doing well at the moment, Edmund caught sight of the Telmarine infantry beginning to advance. Frowning, he realized that nearly two battalions of infantry remained behind with the lagging cavalry. What were they up to?

Fearing they would attempt a pincer movement, Edmund urged Hwella over to Glenstorm. "General, strengthen the flanks, and pull the front behind the chasm!" Glenstorm acknowledged the order with a nod before galloping away. Hwella dashed back through the ranks as Edmund took down any Telmarine who stood in their way, even as the sounds of horns spread the order.

The horse and her king reached Peter at the same time Caspian drew up, and a guard encircled them to allow their kings to convene quickly. Caspian's news was grim. "The entrance to the How collapsed; the archers were too harried and had to climb down the front to escape being demolished." Yes, there was Susan, trying to organize a wall of pikemen in front of her archers to give them range.

Edmund shook his head and relayed his own news and orders. The Telmarine infantry was now pressing hard at their flanks which, though reinforced, were beginning to falter. It would not be long before they broke through

Peter's face was calm, though his eyes were dim with resignation. Looking first at Caspian, then Edmund, the High King's silent orders were clear. Giving a nod, Edmund swung himself off Hwella, as Caspian did the same from his horse. Edmund patted Hwella's neck gently. "Fight well and bravely, my friend."

Hwella nickered into his hair. "May we meet in victory or else in the Green Pastures, my king." Then she turned and ran to join her herd for their final stand.

Edmund dropped the halberd and drew his sword. The Telmarine infantry drew closer as the main body of Narnians congregated to surround their kings. Susan pushed through the ranks to join them as the archers dispersed, her face filled with determination to fight by her family's side.

Peter drew in a breath. Raising Rhindon, he cried out with the clear, commanding voice of a High King: "For Narnia, and for Aslan!" The Narnians took up the battle cry and followed their sovereigns into their last, desperate charge.

~*~

The Narnian lines were quickly broken. Now only small bands of Creatures fought together, or individuals desperately trying to last just a little longer. There was little expectation of survival: by now, most of the faithful had dutifully concluded that their deaths would be to buy time for Aslan to save their families and the other Narnians still hidden in the woods. Those who never had expected a miraculous rescue where just determined to take down as many of the enemy as they could, and die free from the shadows.

Edmund shared both parties' resolutions.

Ruing not taking Hwella and Glenstorm's advice to carry a shield, Edmund quickly picked up a second sword from a fallen Telmarine. Every stab and slash had to count now; he had no energy to waste with wild swings. Almost unconsciously, Edmund had joined Caspian, Peter, and Trumpkin in forming a circle around Susan, giving her range to use her bow – unlike Lucy had in past battles, Susan did not wear a sword or knife for when the fight came down to close combat.

Even as he relentlessly attacked and defended, Edmund's mind sped with thoughts. With split-second precision and the quickest of glances, he continuously re-sighted their position: which soldiers were posing the most immediate risk, how far each of the Narnian sovereigns were from each other, where he should land his next strike, how to move his feet to keep in line and coordination with the others. His heart pounded, his breathing was heavy. Arms ached from exertion, trembling as he struggled to block the blows of the enemy, then return them with full force.

Giant Wimbleweather ran a path in front of Edmund, bellowing and knocking Telmarines down with every step and swing of his club. It gave Edmund a short chance to breathe and look beyond the immediate threats. His heart sunk at what he saw. The Narnian forces had dwindled and scattered; and rows of Telmarine infantry walked steadily against them from all sides. Two lines were marching straight towards the four human Narnians, and Edmund narrowed his eyes.

They were coming for him. They were coming for his _family_. The Telmarines had taken Narnia, his home, his people. He would rot in the deepest of _hells_ before he let them take his family while he still drew breath. Blinding, ice-cold rage filled him and he tightened his grips on the swords, letting them become extensions of his arms. Thoughts fled, leaving only that rage, only battle-lust.

Letting out a half-crazed shout, Edmund threw himself at the approaching enemy. He did not think; he moved, arms swinging their sharp edges as he dove into a sea of blue and silver. He did not feel their blood spatter on his face, did not feel when their strikes got through his defenses and sliced at his skin and armor. He did not hear Susan scream his name, or see Peter's eyes go wide and fearful before hardening in his own uncontrollable rage. He knew only the blades of his arms and the rage in his heart; no longer Edmund, but Ares and Deimos, Tyr and Vali. He was Death and he would release his enemies to their rest until he himself was released.

And Death fell upon the Telmarines.

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In case you don't know:  
Ares: Greek god of war  
Deimos: Greek god of dread  
Tyr: Norse god of combat and heroic glory  
Vali: Norse god of vengeance


	28. Chapter 28

**Note: **I don't usually answer anonymous reviews in author's notes, but _Book Lover_ brought up something about the last chapter I thought I should address. (S)he said "But whoa, what's with the Greek gods?...I just can't see Edmund being compared to them. They seem to go against Aslan." The real Greek gods are very much not like Aslan (the Norse gods a little less weird all around). However, if you read "Prince Caspian", the book, you will notice that _Bacchus_, the Greek god of wine, is present and is a servant of Aslan. So it is not unthinkable that the Greek gods, in Narnia, belong to Aslan. (A shorter answer? It's a metaphor.) Sorry for the long note, but I felt it needed to be said.

**Chapter 28**

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His world was only blue and silver, silver and blue, both turning to delightful red with every swing of his arms. His feet danced, yet were still set on the ground, like a river that flowed far and long but lay trapped in the same earth. So his feet moved, and so silver and blue ran red, and so he laughed at the beauty of it.

Then the ground jerked from beneath his feet. There was no more dancing as his back impacted earth, his laughter cut short as breath left his body. Blackness filled his vision, but it quickly cleared and he blinked as silver and blue were muted to brown, and red flew from sight to be replaced by vibrant, living green. Edmund was shocked back to full awareness as he realized what he was seeing.

Trees. The trees were moving, rustling, roaring as their roots tore up the earth and attacked the Telmarines soldiers, who fled in terror from their nightmares come to life.

One of the trees, a sprite little myrtle following in the wake of the great trees, wrapped a branch around Edmund's hand and gently heaved him to his feet. "I apologize, your majesty. We were going for the Telmarines around you, but your roots were too unstable."

The young king breathed heavily, still trying to wake his mind from its berserk emptiness. Finally, he gasped out a "Thanks". The myrtle nodded and then continued on his way towards the fleeing Telmarines.

"Edmund!" He turned at Susan's frantic call and found himself with an armful of older sister. It was awkward trying to hold her while carrying two swords, but he somehow managed a decent embrace. She pulled back, her eyes frantically surveying his form. "Are you alright? Are you injured?"

Edmund was only paying partial attention to her words, used to her worry as he was, while he appraised the situation on the battlefield. "I'm fine, Su." The Telmarines were in full retreat; the Narnians needed to pursue and cut them down before they regrouped. Where were…Ah, there, whole and hale. "Come on, there's Peter and Caspian."

Without waiting for a response, Edmund took off towards his fellow kings and brothers. He slowed as a great oak tree bellowed and sent his roots flying through the ground, tearing down one of the Telmarine war machines. It was an awesome sight and, for a moment, Edmund just reveled in watching his dormant people, awake and moving. Lucy had done it; she had found Aslan – or, more likely, Aslan had found her – and the Lion had woken the trees from their fearful slumber.

Then Edmund heard Peter speak, and he refocused on his mission. With only a few more steps he was by Peter's side, opposite from Caspian. Both the older kings looked over him, and Susan, with worried eyes, relaxing only when they saw neither was terribly injured. Those Narnians still able to stand and fight gathered near them, all awed at the sight they knew only from stories.

But their work was not yet finished. Feeling the renewed energy in their forces, Peter gave the order to charge after the Telmarines, across the field and towards the Beruna Bridge. Adrenaline coursed through Edmund's veins as he followed his brother, tightly gripping his blood-encrusted swords. The earth still trembled as the trees moved with them, and Edmund expected that more of their brethren waited across the bridge to trap the fleeing enemy.

Unfortunately, the exuberance of the Narnians faltered into alarm as they neared the beginning of the woods and realized that the cavalry and infantry which had held back before were still standing in their way. They were maintaining their lines, not fleeing like the others. Peter lifted his sword to order an attack when…

"Hold!" came Edmund's loud, insistent command. Peter paused and looked at his brother, but Edmund did not meet his gaze. Instead, he saw what distance had hidden from him before: the pikes of the infantry were planted in the earth by hands trembling in fear. Nervous cavalrymen were dismounted and holding the bridles of their terrified horses. Save one.

General Glozelle, sword sheathed and hand out in a steadying command to his troops, looked almost as fearful of the trees and the Narnians as his men. He held himself sternly and bravely, though, and his voice barely wavered as he addressed the Narnian leaders. "Your majesties," he acknowledged with a courteous nod.

Edmund smiled. "Peter, continue the pursuit."

Peter was none-too sure about this course of action. "Edmund…"

"It's alright." He pointed at the division banner, stuck in the ground and lowered. "They've surrendered."

.

Though hesitant, Peter trusted his brother's knowledge and, with Susan, led the majority of the Narnians past Glozelle's troops and into the forest. A few guards remained with Edmund, as did Caspian. Glozelle dismounted his horse, handing the reins to Lord Scythley, who stood beside him. Hesitating only a hair's breadth of a moment, Glozelle knelt in fealty before Caspian. "My lord king, here is your servant and those men whose loyalty is now yours." He looked up at a surprised Caspian. "Majesty, our aid in this battle was only that we did not fight, for in engaging we would not be able to distinguish ally from enemy. By our oaths, it will never happen again that you be in need of aid and we do not answer."

Caspian stepped forward and Glozelle's eyes dropped to the ground in regret, not bearing the sight of the king he had betrayed. Therefore, his shoulders jolted in surprise when Caspian leaned over and took both hands in his, accepting the general's fealty. "May it be so, Lord Glozelle of Woodwatch."

Edmund had to grin at the utter astonishment on Glozelle's face as Caspian not only forgave him, but granted him a title…and Lord Sopespian's lands. Caspian helped Glozelle to his feet, and it was evident that the Telmarine soldiers had relaxed at the sight of this acceptance and honor. Extremely loyal to their general, they would follow his lead in following Caspian. It was a start, the beginning of reconciliation.

However, the war was not over yet. "Caspian." The young king glanced at Edmund, who gave him a look clearly stating that they should be following the others.

Caspian turned back to Glozelle. "Lord Glozelle, please have your men surrender their weapons to these good Narnians. It is only a precaution and they will be returned when peace has been settled." Trusting Glozelle to obey – and rightly so – Edmund and Caspian dashed into the woods, following the obvious path of the battle.

They emerged from the treeline, only to stop short and stare, just as the Narnians around them were doing. It was no wonder, as yet another tale had come alive and was presently tearing apart the Telmarine army as they crossed the Ford: the water-god of the Great River, awoken at last and not happy to have his waters restrained by the wooden bridge. Therefore, Edmund was not surprised to see the bridge suspended in air and broken when the river-god came down on it with all force possible.

As the waters settled and flowed freely once more, the Narnians began cheering as they never had before. The battle, the war, was won! The water-logged and frightened Telmarines no longer had any fight left in them – particularly after the rather impressive death of their leader, Sopespian, at the hands of the river-god – and they began surrendering their weapons in resignation. Those Narnians near Edmund and Caspian were laughing and pounding at their kings' shoulders with happy abandon, respect and control giving way to status-ignorant joy. Hoping they were not doing the same to Peter with his bruised shoulder-blade, Edmund searched for his older brother in the crowd.

When he finally spotted Peter and Susan, they were not looking for him and Caspian as expected. They weren't even _moving_. Instead, they were looking across the river to the broken end of the bridge where…

Edmund's heart caught in his throat, and the noise of his surroundings dimmed to nothing. Lucy was there, yes, wet and smiling, but she did not capture his attention. Standing next to her, though, larger and more brilliant than Edmund remembered, was a beautiful, golden lion.

Aslan had come.

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	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

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Edmund was thankful the Ford of Beruna was running low and smooth at the moment, since he could not take his eyes off of Aslan to watch his own steps. Though the sun shone in the sky, it was nothing against the radiance of the Lion. Edmund did not even notice that Caspian waded next to him through the water, Peter and Susan walking to Caspian's left. No, Edmund's eyes were fixed on Aslan until the moment he reached the shore and knelt on dry ground in front of the Highest King of Narnia.

A thrill ran through Edmund's chest when he heard Aslan's low, majestic voice. "Rise, Kings and Queens of Narnia." Edmund stood automatically at the command, still transfixed and, he was certain, grinning like an idiot to see Aslan so close. He watched as Aslan's piercing, depthless eyes focused on Edmund's left side and spoke again. "All of you."

Edmund was puzzled until he heard Caspian's shaky voice. "I do not believe I am ready to be king."

Though his eyes remained steady on Aslan, Edmund scoffed at Caspian's words. Really, _none_ of them were ready when they were crowned, himself least of all. Yet that had just given them the determination to learn and do the best they could with Aslan's help. It seemed the Great Lion felt the same, as he smiled and reassured the young king, "That is how I know you _are_." Edmund took his eyes away from Aslan long enough to smile at Caspian, who stood to his feet. It was obvious from the look on his face that the Telmarine was still in fearful, enraptured awe at Aslan's presence, his acceptance and unspoken forgiveness. Edmund knew how he felt.

"High King of Narnia, why do you not stand?" Startled at Aslan's words, Edmund looked past Caspian. Peter still knelt on the rocky sand, head bowed in dejected shame, hands clenching the hilt of his sword so hard that they were trembling. Edmund's heart ached to see his brother so overcome with emotional agony that he could not bring himself to seek the comfort of looking into Aslan's loving, comforting eyes.

When Peter finally gathered the courage to speak, still not looking up, his voice was shaky even as he spoke in a manner befitting royalty. "Aslan, I am not worthy to be called so. I forgot the duties and allegiance of the High King; nor did I act in accordance with your will, only my own. In my arrogance, I caused the deaths of many good Narnians under my command and protection, and I…" Peter faltered in his, clearly well thought out, speech, and his hands somehow clenched the sword hilt even harder. "And, in more ways than one, I nearly lost what is dearest in the world to my heart."

Edmund might not have understood what Peter meant by the last confession had he not caught a glimpse of Caspian out of the corner of his eye. The young king's face looked pale and guilty as he glanced from Peter to…Edmund himself. Confused, Edmund caught Caspian's glance and raised an eyebrow. Caspian read the silent question and nodded before turning his eyes to the ground, as if ashamed of something.

Edmund still was not sure he understood. Surely Peter didn't mean _him_. Obviously the use of the superlative had to be an exaggeration; but, moreso, how could Peter ever think he could _lose_ Edmund? Granted, they had been separated for awhile when Edmund had been among the Telmarines and, well, the whole bleeding out on the floor of the How might have made for a few tense moments, but there had been no _losing_ involved.

He stepped towards his brother to protest this. But then Peter looked up, straight at Aslan. Edmund almost gasped at the despair and resignation in Peter's face as he finished speaking. "I can not defend my actions and I will regret to my dying day that I ever turned away from you. I now submit to your justice in this matter, my king. I am at your mercy." With that, Peter bowed his head again, awaiting sentence.

There was never any doubt in Edmund's mind what would happen; after all, he had been in that dark abyss of guilt himself, before being pulled into the light. And that Light, that Lion spoke now with love, just as he had those years before. "So mercy you shall have." Peter looked up in shock. Aslan smiled as he drew close, until his muzzle was only a few inches away from Peter's face. "My son," he said, his golden voice full of forgiveness and love as he breathed gently on the child in front of him.

The change in Peter was immediate and evident. His back relaxed as the weight of his mistakes fled; his eyes brightened from dull grey to sparkling blue. And, for the first time in a year, since leaving Narnia, Edmund finally saw Peter. Not the callous boy who had stolen his brother's face, or the empty shell who was only the High King, but _Peter_. Aslan had answered Edmund prayers and brought his brother back to himself, and Edmund could only share in Lucy's delighted grin as their brother stood and took back his rightful place as High King Peter the Magnificent.

~*~

As High King, Peter's moods and actions often affected those around him, especially those who ruled by his side. Therefore, it was not surprising that, when Aslan breathed new life into the fallen king, the others felt it as well. Caspian felt more at peace about his role in Peter's grief and fear, more able to let go of his own guilt with the High King no longer seeming as…_fragile_ as he had before. Susan looked at her brother and forgave him completely at seeing the old him fully broken and rebuilt into the king she knew he was. Lucy smiled from her place at Aslan's side, overjoyed as everything seemed to fall into its correct place at the Lion's command.

Edmund just felt relieved. Relieved and tired as he let the stress and worry and wrath of the battle wash away from behind the shields he had used to hide them. Peter was back, and Edmund didn't have to be the strong one anymore, didn't have to support the weight of watching over his family and people by himself. The thought should have been a comfort.

Yet even as he smiled with his siblings, that relief was assailed by a sudden, distressing doubt; he didn't know if he _could_ let Peter take over as the pillar of their royal family. As much as he wanted to hand Peter that weighty responsibility, Edmund didn't know if he could trust his older brother not to abandon the responsibility, abandon _them_ as he had already done once. And it hurt Edmund to the core of his being that he had lost his absolute trust in his brother at this bright moment when Peter had finally returned to himself.

The entire contemplation had struck as quick as lightning, and now Edmund struggled just as quickly to hide his distress from the others. He nearly panicked when his usual means of suppression failed, his troubles welling up in waves and threatening to drown him. Edmund fought against it, terrified. At any moment someone, _Peter_, would look at him and read his thoughts in his face and it would tear them apart again just as the wounds were beginning to heal and…

"Edmund."

Aslan's voice pulled through the panic. Edmund dropped to his knees, absurdly thankful at the chance to hide the turmoil etched on his face. Head and body bent low, Edmund warred between his joy at hearing the Lion speak to him, and the guilt he felt for his lack of trust, for all the mistakes he had made since he had been brought back to Narnia. He had tried so _hard_ to act like the king Aslan meant him to be, but everything – teaching Caspian, the raid, trying to help Peter, supporting his family, _everything_ – had just fallen apart so badly.

"Dearest" Edmund gasped softly at Aslan's address, spoken just over his head, the loving words coming over sweet breath like a spring breeze. His vision, fixed on the rocky ground, was suddenly overwhelmed by a sea of golden fur as Aslan used his soft muzzle to push against Edmund's head and chest. The movement was so gentle that Edmund never lost his balance; but his back was forced to straighten until he was bowing not dissimilar to how Peter always knelt.

The sea of gold disappeared and Edmund looked up into Aslan's smiling eyes. "Well done," the Lion said, simple words with so great a meaning. And, as Aslan's breath had brought light back to Peter, now it brought Edmund the peace he so needed. This was true relief: the burdens were not gone, but were borne by Aslan's strength instead of Edmund's weakness. Edmund's trust in Peter had been shaken, but he could trust Aslan to help him find it again. His mistakes and failures could not be undone, but Edmund was confident he could now move past them; after all, even his greatest betrayal had already been forgiven.

Standing again, Edmund's smile was broad and clear as his burdens slipped away. He looked at Peter who smiled back at him, his eyes sparkling with new light. Caspian, standing between them, shared his own happy smile with Lucy, whose grin was the brightest of all. It was a moment of joyful contentment among the four, and Edmund looked past Peter to bring Susan into it as well.

But Susan had turned away from them – or more precisely, away from Aslan's gaze which now held deep grief along with the light. Edmund's smile disappeared, not understanding, but then he saw what he thought must have caught their attention: a group of Mice were carrying a wounded Reepicheep towards the Narnian royals. The injuries looked severe, but Lucy was by the Chief Mouse in a flash, and Edmund knew he was in good hands.

Indeed, Reepicheep was soon on the mend, but Edmund was distracted by a whinny and a brown blur that materialized into an anxious Mare as Hwella nearly ran him over in her excitement. "My king, you are well! I saw you in the midst of those soldiers and I could not reach your side, and it worried me."

Edmund chuckled and patted the Horse's neck. "I am glad to see you alive, too." Hwella had not quite come through the battle unscathed, but her wounds were mostly as superficial as his own; cuts and bruises were a warrior's lot.

Edmund refrained from rolling his eyes as Hwella, not very subtly, looked him over for signs of serious injuries that he might be hiding. Honestly, he wasn't _that _bad. Finally satisfied, Hwella nickered into his hair, before moving away to give her king space to breathe. "What happens now?"

With that, Edmund returned to his identity as king and general, yet more confident and content than before. "Now, if you are willing, I believe Lucy will want to get to the battlefield quickly to help tend to the wounded."

Hwella nodded, happy to aid the youngest queen in her endeavor. "And then, my king?"

And then would come a host of issues and problems, including dealing with the captured Telmarines, sorting and mourning the dead, and all the other grim details that came with the aftermath of battle. But that was for the kings and queens to deal with. For Hwella and the other Narnians, what mattered is that they had won. That _Caspian_ had won.

So Edmund smiled and answered her. "Then we have a coronation to attend."

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	30. Chapter 30

**Note: **The chapter everyone seems to have been waiting for. Also, the longest chapter. Hopefully, it lives up to expectations!

**Chapter 30**

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The Ford of Beruna lay, conveniently enough, near the Telmarine town called Beruna. It was not a large town, at least not compared to Beaversdam; its importance came only from its proximity to the ford. The town and surrounding land had rested in the care of its comtisa, Lady Mareteya, since the death of her considerably older husband several years before.

Though nominally under Sopespian's command, as lord of the lands within which Beruna lay, the Comtisa had managed to remain fairly autonomous in her rule. That is, until Miraz's fist grew tighter around his lords, who in turn further constrained their comdes and comtisas. As taxes grew higher and her people were forced to abandon their fields and shops to build that ridiculous bridge – putting her ferrymen out of business in doing so – Lady Mareteya grew more frustrated and resentful of the Telmarine leadership.

Therefore, when word reached her of the Narnians' victory, Mareteya gathered the town leaders, mounted her house, and rode straight to the battlefield. Not surprisingly, she nearly fainted when she was brought before a giant, talking lion, but she had not survived the trials of her life – married at fourteen to a sixty-five year-old man, widowed at twenty-three, the Great Famine, the deadly flood the spring previous – to be cowed for long. Summoning her courage, the Comtisa looked from the Lion to young Prince…King Caspian and, after swearing loyalty, offered the town and her own manor house for the wounded and prisoners.

Caspian was quick to accept the offer. The new king was rapidly finding himself overwhelmed by the decisions he had to make and, under Edmund and Peter's guidance, was learning the usefulness of delegation. Glozelle, the new Lord of Woodwatch, and General Glenstorm worked with Lady Mareteya to managed relations between townsmen, Telmarine soldiers, and Narnians in order to minimize antagonism among the various parties. Caspian sent Lord Scythley, Lady Prunaprismia's father and the only other lord to hold back his men from the battle, to Beaversdam. The older Telmarine, though he had pledged loyalty to Caspian, was still unsettled being near the Narnians; so, considering the respect he commanded among the Telmarine nobility, it was felt that he was best to take the news of victory to Beaversdam and prepare the way for Caspian's coronation.

A coronation which, in the days after the battle, Susan threw herself into organizing. Along with Lucy and Lady Mareteya, Susan planned and prepared, using her skills and gentle nature to get Narnians and Telmarines working together, and even encouraging them to get excited about the upcoming crowning. The boys mostly stayed out of their way, busy themselves with dealing with the aftermath of battle and upheaval in rule. Only sometimes did their needs combine, such as sending a note to Beaversdam asking Lord Scythley – in a commanding sort of way – to send more royal clothing and the Telmarine crown to Beruna.

.

It was the latter item which was holding Caspian and Edmund's attention at the moment, as they stood in one of the manor rooms looking at it.

Edmund tilted his head to the side and squinted at the crown lying on the table in front of him. "It's…nice?"

Standing on the other side of the table, Caspian looked rather put out. "It's _big_. I thought that was just an exaggeration of my memory. But no, it actually _is_ giant."

"Should fit your head, then," smirked Edmund.

Caspian pulled a face but, as usual, seemed to enjoy being teased, rather than be truly annoyed. "It's also rather…old. And dusty. And _gaudy_."

Edmund licked his thumb and tried rubbing one of the over-large gems. "Maybe if it's polished a bit…" He winced as the yellow-green jewel just looked more sickly next to the gold.

"I think that just makes it worse," said Caspian morosely. He wasn't vain by any stretch of the imagination, but this crown was a bit much, even for him. The two boys considered the offending object for a few more moments before Caspian spoke again. "I don't suppose I could have it melted down and have the dwarfs make another one."

Edmund was shaking his head before Caspian finished speaking. "Not it you want to be seen as a legitimate king among the Telmarines. According to everything I've read in the manor library, and from what Glozelle and Lady Mareteya have said, every Telmarine king since Caspian the Third was crowned with…that."

Caspian shook his head in frustration. "But I do not wish to be a king like them!"

"Lesson Fourteen." Caspian looked up, waiting for Edmund's newest piece of kingly wisdom. "A crown doesn't make a king, faith and actions do." Edmund gave Caspian a pointed look. "Hate that crown because it's ugly, not because you think it will make you like those who wore it before."

Caspian nodded. Then he sighed. "It really is ugly, isn't it?"

Edmund winced again. "Yes. It is. But you still have to be crowned with it. The Telmarine people won't consider you a legitimate ruler otherwise, and it would cause more trouble than it's worth not to use it."

There was another pause of silence before a light dawned in Caspian's eyes. "But what about _after_?"

"Well, after the coronation you only would have to wear it on formal occasions…"

"No, no, think about it." Excitement seemed to grow in Caspian's face as the wheels turned in his mind. "I mean, what if after the coronation I don't wear it at all? I could say it is such a valuable piece of history that I dare not wear it in case something happens to it."

Edmund's smile grew as he caught on to the plan. "You could even have a ceremony where you place it somewhere for safekeeping."

"And have a smaller, lighter crown made by the dwarfs."

"A dwarf and a Telmarine smith. And you would have another ceremony to dedicate it as a symbol of unity."

"…I'm going to have to go to a lot of ceremonies as king, aren't I?"

"Officiate usually, and yes." Edmund had lost track of all the ceremonies within two years as king. And _he_ had shared the burden with three siblings.

Caspian shook his head, but even the prospect of countless ceremonies did not darken his excitement. "I don't care, as long as I don't have to wear _that_."

"Well, if you hide it well enough – wherever you put it for safekeeping – we can reasonably assume that within a few generations it will be lost, or one of your great-grandchildren will melt it down, or something."

Looking startled at the thought of having great-grandchildren, Caspian opened his mouth to speak. The thud of knuckles on wood interrupted him, and both Caspian and Edmund turned towards the sound. Peter stood in the doorframe. "Am I interrupting?"

Edmund shook his head. "Come in, Pete. We were just discussing how to get Caspian out of wearing _that_ more than once."

Peter came forward and looked more closely at the crown. "I can see why."

There wasn't anything that should have triggered Edmund to the fact that Peter was here for something serious. The High King was acting normally, his voice was steady and loose, with a hint of wry humor. Perhaps it was subtle body language that, after over twenty years of experience, had been noted in Edmund's subconscious. Whatever it was, Edmund instinctively knew that Peter wanted to talk to him, alone. Edmund caught Caspian's eye as Peter bent over the crown and poked it tentatively, as if he expected it to bite. Caspian thankfully understood Edmund's look, and the slight jerk of his head, and thought up a quick excuse. "Actually, I should probably speak to Lady Mareteya about finding a Telmarine goldsmith willing to work with dwarfs. If you will excuse me." he made a quick escape, shutting the door behind him.

.

Edmund was pretty sure Peter saw right through the attempted subterfuge, but he looked thankful rather than indignant. The two brothers stood there, Peter looking at the crown and Edmund looking at Peter. Finally, Edmund broke the silence. "So…how's your shoulder?"

Peter looked up, automatically rolling his shoulder as he did so. He only winced a little bit. "It's better."

"And your foot?"

Peter blinked. "How did…what about my foot?"

Edmund rolled his eyes and gently toed at Peter's right boot. As Peter hissed and hopped back, the younger boy shook his head. "_That_ about your foot. You were practically hobbling when you came into the room." He was surprised Caspian had not noticed, actually; but then, maybe he should just be glad that Caspian was no longer jumping whenever Peter entered the room and vice versa. Now, though, Peter was just looking sheepish at being caught.

"I think it might be, um, bruised."

Blue eyes looked pitifully at him and Edmund sighed. "All right, sit down; I'll take a look."

Peter glanced around the small room. It was mostly cluttered with items that had been hurriedly moved there in order to make space in the manor for the wounded. However, as chairs were fairly necessary when dealing with large groups, there were not any in this particular storage area. "Er…"

"Floor. Sit." Peter really had no choice but to find a clear area of rug – which was actually remarkably fluffy – and gingerly sat so as not to aggravate his shoulder or his foot. Edmund plopped down in front of his brother and gently worked to remove the boot. After some grimacings and apologies, it was soon off, followed by the sock.

The top of Peter's foot was red and slightly swollen, the skin only just beginning to darken. Edmund examined it carefully, but it didn't look like anything had been broken or crushed. Satisfied that it was just a bruise, Edmund sat back and let Peter put his sock back on. "So, what happened?"

Peter began working on maneuvering his boot on while minimizing his discomfort. "I…ran into a group of kids playing tag on the way here." His wince was more from Edmund's smirk than the pain in his foot.

"Tag? Really?"

"One of them was a centaur." That tempered the smirk. Edmund had himself dealt with centaur children who had not yet learned the grace and agility of their parents. Peter's face grew pensive. "You know what, though? That group of kids…there were Telmarines as well as Narnians in it."

Edmund smiled and leaned back against some sort of old, ugly end table. "That's usually how it starts." Memories came to him of young Fauns laughing and chasing their Wolf-pup friends down the halls of Cair Paravel, while their parents could barely stand in the same room together.

Peter wrapped his arms around his left knee, fidgeting to try and find a comfortable position to sit in. "It's good to see."

"It is. But it's not what you came to talk about." That much was clear. Edmund could usually tell when Peter was skirting around an issue.

"No." And now Peter was looking uncomfortable, his eyes not quite meeting Edmund's. The older boy's hold on his knee tightened. "It's after, Ed."

Edmund didn't have to ask what he meant. Frankly, he was surprised it had taken Peter this long to seek him out to finish their promised talk. However, the chaos of the days following the Second Battle of Beruna, as it was being called, did not allow for much time to speak privately. Things were only just beginning to settle. "I don't suppose that winning the war means that you don't have to retroactively give me your 'if we die today' speech?"

It didn't, apparently, as Peter decided to just ignore him and barrel on with what he had to say. "I've already apologized to the girls and Caspian, but I never…I never got a chance to tell you how incredibly sorry I am for what I've done and how I acted, or to ask for your forgiveness."

"Of cour…"

"Ed, please!' Edmund reluctantly shut his mouth and let Peter continue. It was hard, especially since the older boy looked nearly as miserable as he had before speaking with Aslan. "I've not acted much like a High King this past year, or even like a brother, and I left you to struggle with _both_ our responsibilities. You were having to deal with the same situation I was, but I did _nothing_ to help you – more like made things harder for you – and I did nothing to help the girls either, which meant you had to help both of them, alone, while at the same time trying to help _me._ It wasn't fair to pile all that on you."

"But that's my duty as king and brother: to pick up the slack when you're overwhelmed by it all."

Peter shook his head. "Help, yes. Not do the work of two people. I should have listened to you, not acted like a child." For all that Peter had considered himself an adult trapped in the body of a boy, looking back he could see that he had acted more like a child pretending to be grown up. "And I just got worse in Narnia, with how I treated you and Caspian. My words and actions were unconscionable."

"Bringing out the big words now?" joked Edmund, trying to insert some sort of levity into the increasingly uncomfortable situation.

Peter just gave him a look. "I guess I don't have to list all the bad decisions I made, considering. But I _have_ to specifically apologize for two things: for one, the raid on Beaversdam castle."

Edmund stiffened at the mention of that battle. Though he wouldn't admit it, especially to Peter, he was still having nightmares about the massacre of his soldiers. "I made as many mistakes."

"No." Edmund quickly snapped his mouth shut at Peter's fierce interruption. The anger in the older boy's eyes matched that of Susan's when he had previously tried to admit his failures. "Edmund, the fault for what happened there lies entirely on me and my pride. Whatever other mistakes were made, they would have mattered little if I had actually listened to you and ordered a retreat." Edmund hated hearing it, hated seeing the toil that guilt had taken on Peter. He hated even more that he knew it was true. "And…and I also have to apologize for what happened with the White Witch."

Edmund bit his lip at the memory. "She was enchanting you. It wasn't my place to judge you for that, and _I'm _sorry for what I said afterwards."

"You had every right to be furious with me, Ed. I should have known better than to try and attack her directly; it certainly hadn't worked before. Not to mention I should have realized you were injured, shouldn't have let you fight that werewolf on your own. I've been a terrible leader, and a terrible brother, and I really don't deserve to even ask your forgiveness." Peter rested his chin on his knee, looking miserably at the floor.

Edmund huffed and lightly kicked Peter's leg, forcing him to look up. "Forgiveness isn't about what you deserve." He knew that better than most. "Aslan forgives you, Peter. And so do I." He really did, too. Edmund could see clearly that Peter was sincere in his repentance; and he could no more withhold sincerely desired forgiveness than stop his own heart from beating. Whatever problems he still had with trusting in Peter's continued penitent actions, Edmund would always grant him forgiveness when it was earnestly sought.

Peter's relief was visible as his body relaxed and a real smile stole across his face. "Thanks, Ed."

Smiling, Edmund shrugged his shoulders. "Everyone deserves a second chance." What happened next surprised him. Considering that the emphasis on second chances had always been an important part of Edmund's life, it startled him to see how quickly the words caused Peter's countenance to cloud over, as if they brought back a terrible memory. "Peter? What's wrong?"

Peter shook the clouds away and tried to smile again. "Nothing."

"That wasn't 'nothing'."

Peter hesitated before giving in, knowing by the look in Edmund's eye that he wouldn't let this go. "It's just…I hate thinking about…about how close I came to losing you."

While not quite following Peter's leap in logic, Edmund was more concerned with understanding his meaning. "That's the second time I heard you talk about losing me, and I don't get it. I mean, I can understand there were some points you might have been worried about my safety…"

"Might have been worried about your safety?" Peter's face was incredulous as he sat up straighter. "Edmund, you could have been killed! Three times, not counting the final battle!"

Edmund frowned. If they weren't counting that, than what…?" It hit him and his frown deepened. "I was never in much danger during those early skirmishes, despite what Caspian might say. There wasn't even much danger infiltrating the Beaversdam castle. I wasn't doing much active sabotage, or placing myself in extended contact with the more ruthless Telmarines. Besides," he tried to keep his smile from looking false at the memory of times long past, "Miraz wasn't exactly paying off members of our court to learn about what I was doing."

His argument didn't seem to be persuading Peter, so he moved on. "Getting injured during the raid was my own fault; I wasn't paying good enough attention to my surroundings. And it really wasn't a particularly bad wound, which was why I didn't mention it, and I _did_ get it stitched and bandaged." Was he rambling? He usually didn't ramble so much, but Peter had such a _look_ on his face that was distressing just to see, and Edmund _really_ wanted to make it stop. But it didn't seem to be working. "I probably _shouldn't _have fought the werewolf, but I don't think the hag would have been much better. And I should have gone back to the healer afterwards instead of wandering off, but really, I don't think it was as bad as you all seem to make it out to be. Honestly, the whole passing out thing probably had more to do with not having eaten in awhile than blood loss…"

Edmund's words trailed off. Something wasn't right here. Yes, Peter might be upset about those close calls, but there was something more. Edmund could see it in the way Peter was reacting to his words: his eyes weren't quite meeting Edmund's, his left forefinger was softly tapping on his leg, and he seemed to be grinding his teeth slightly. All sure signs that Peter's thoughts were not entirely on what Edmund was saying. Which meant… "That's not what you were talking about, though, was it?" There, a shift in his gaze and an entirely too innocent look. "When you said you came close to losing me. You didn't mean just the times I might have been somewhat close to being killed." The older boy's thin, pursed lips told him he was close. "Peter, tell…"

"I let go of your hand." Edmund stared as Peter blurted out the truth. That…wasn't what he was expecting. Peter saw his confusion and explained, hesitantly. "At the station. Susan told us to hold hands, but I let yours go."

Edmund's brow furrowed. "But I told you I didn't want to hold your hand."

"That's the point!" Edmund nearly banged his head against the end table as he started at Peter's loud, angry exclamation. "A year ago, a few months ago, you wouldn't have hesitated! But I pushed you away; I pushed and I yelled and I ignored you and I _hurt_ you, until you stopped trying and I let you _go_!" The fierceness in Peter's voice was offset by the fact that he had pulled both knees to his chest, using them as some kind of emotional shield. "But then, in Narnia, I had the chance to make things right, tell you I loved and needed you, but I still pushed you away, and Caspian was there and you were supporting him like you used to with me and I…"

He was cut off when Edmund leapt to his feet, eyes blazing like dark embers as realization hit. "Peter Gabriel Pevensie!" It was never a good thing when the middle name was brought out. "I can't believe you could think…Peter, you thought I was _replacing_ you?"

Not liking having an irate brother towering over him, Peter stood, ignoring the pain in his foot. "I was so awful to you and, and Caspian was already acting like your brother and …"

Peter was silenced again as Edmund stepped further into his personal space, glare still menacing despite being half a head below his own. "And? What? It's either or? You're saying I can't love Lucy because I already have Susan as a sister?"

"No, but…"

"And you can't be my brother because you were _mean_?" Peter actually took a tiny step backwards at the wrath in Edmund's voice. "By the Lion, Peter! If acting like a brat for one year out of twenty-nine means you can't be a brother anymore, than I apparently haven't been your brother since I was ten the first time!"

Peter's eyes widened. "No! That wasn't what I meant!"

Edmund was having none of his backtracking; because, _Aslan_, this hurt. "What did you mean then? Because the way I see it, either I wasn't your brother any longer after I was so horrible to you and sold you out to the White Witch. Or you think so little of me that you believe I would _betray _you by throwing you out for a new brother because you were being _inconvenient_. Which is it Peter?" There was a near-hysterical tone to his voice, he knew, and it wasn't rational. Well, perhaps a little logical, considering Edmund could _feel _his soul breaking, terrified that either situation was the truth. Did Peter really think so little of him? Had he always felt that way? Edmund just didn't know anymore; he used to think that Peter had gotten over his betrayal, knew he would _never _the same again, but he had also thought that Peter would always be _Peter_, High King and magnificent. If the latter could change, if Peter could break the oaths he had sworn as High King, how much could Edmund trust that the former was true?

Peter's face had gone white as Edmund spoke, until now he looked about ready to topple over. In fact, his ability to stay upright seemed so precarious that Edmund automatically reached out, as if to grab his older brother to steady him. Though Edmund stopped mid-reach, the unconscious gesture of support seemed to give Peter strength. As Edmund began pulling back, Peter himself reached out and grabbed his little brother's arms. "Ed…" It came out as a dismal croak, and Peter shook his head to try and clear the lump in his throat. "Lion's Mane, Ed, what have I done to you?"

The anguish in Peter's voice, the horror in his eyes, drew Edmund from the brink of hysteria. "Peter?" There was an uncharacteristic lack of control as Edmund let a chord of pathetic hope slip into his voice and demeanor. While he usually hid intense feelings behind a mask of anger or sarcastic humor, he just _couldn't_ anymore. He had been wrenched so many ways emotionally the past year, and particularly in recent weeks, that his self-control had to give sometime. This conversation had just been the last thread. Now his face was an open book. And Peter was reading every word; indeed, he could see _exactly_ what he had done to Edmund. What he was doing.

"I…" Peter's mouth seemed to have forgotten how to work at such a display. Yet, to Edmund's surprise, confusion, and utter relief, the lack of words did not seem to be a confirmation of his fears. Not with the guilt and sorrow in Peter's grey-blue eyes.

Without warning, Peter used his grip on Edmund to clumsily tug the younger boy into a fierce embrace. Stunned, Edmund did not even react, but this only made Peter tighten his hold. When Peter finally managed to speak his words were soft but firm, full of regret and resigned guilt. "Brother mine, that you could even conceive of such ideas shows how far I have fallen." When Edmund didn't respond, Peter's shoulders slumped and he buried his face in one of the arms he kept wound around his brother's neck. "Aslan, how do I fix this?" he whispered, muffled so that he could barely be heard.

Edmund _did_ hear, though. He heard Peter's desolate prayer and, sucking in a breath, Edmund realized that Peter was _right_. Had the older boy confessed to such a fear in years past, fear of being replaced, Edmund would have rolled his eyes, punched Peter in the shoulder, and told him he was being a complete idiot. It would never have crossed Edmund's mind to think otherwise, never have occurred to him to take such a confession so seriously to heart. Only now, Edmund's trust in Peter had been so shaken…

_It doesn't have to be_, he thought. Peter was trying to make amends. The old Peter, the _real_ Peter. _Aslan, please. Give me faith to trust him again._

Slowly, hesitantly, Edmund brought his arms up and wrapped them about his brother's chest. Peter nearly jumped in surprise, but then tightened his grip so much that Edmund's ribs ached. Feeling the fierce relief in Peter's body, Edmund knew he had made the right decision. It might destroy him if Peter shattered that trust again, but Edmund had to take that chance. For Peter's sake.

After a moment, Peter loosened his grip and pulled back slightly to look Edmund in the eye. The older boy's face was a picture of intense resolve. "Brother, by Aslan's grace, I swear to never again abandon you who are dearest to my heart. May darkness take me if I should fail to uphold my word." It was a most solemn oath to swear by Aslan's grace – particularly to Edmund, who knew that grace so fully.

The younger king breathed deeply and, this time, it was Edmund who pulled Peter into an embrace. "Brother, may your oath never be broken. But, should it happen, let darkness spare you and take me instead." After all, he would already be lost should Peter break this promise.

"Never," insisted Peter, and Edmund was not sure if he were vowing again to keep his oath, or forswearing Edmund's desire to save him from the consequence of oathbreaking. In all likelihood, it was both. And Edmund felt hope rise just hearing Peter's vow and his determination to protect his brother – both by keeping the oath and not allowing Edmund to take the fall for him. Usually Edmund hated Peter's insistence on keeping the younger boy out of danger's snare. Now it was a reassurance of Peter's return, and of Aslan's grace.

It was a promise for a better future.

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Only three more chapters!


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

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Afterwards, Edmund would be grateful that he and Peter had managed to talk when they did. Not every problem was solved – it would take time for Edmund to fully trust Peter again, for Peter to learn to live with his guilt. The healing had begun, though, for which both brothers were thankful. And, after those few quiet moments, there was little time to converse, so occupied was everyone with preparing for Caspian's coronation

Susan's efforts in that preparation came off splendidly. By the time the coronation party left Beruna for Beaversdam, everything was set. Lord Scythley had managed his part as well and, waiting for them at the outskirts of the city, a convenient rock formation had been transformed into a splendid dais, perfectly suited for the ceremony Susan had planned.

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The sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky on the day of the coronation. Excited crowds waited for the ceremony to begin, Narnians and Telmarines mixing together, if hesitantly. Then trumpets sounded and the din of the assembled quieted to a hush. The ceremony began as two rows of soldiers, Narnian and Telmarine intermingled, marched down the makeshift aisle that led to the dais. They lined the aisle before snapping to attention in perfect unison.

The hush of the onlookers grew to a low buzz of excitement and astonishment at those who came down next, between the lines of soldiers. Though their own crowns were lost to centuries of war and oppression, there was no mistaking these children for anything but the Four Sovereigns of the Golden Age. Their manner and mien were of royalty, their eyes holding wisdom and knowledge far beyond their youthful appearance. Even the Telmarines, only just beginning to learn the truth of their fairy tales, knew that these were no ordinary children. In the midst of the crowd, Tarin the stablemaster shook his head and wondered how he could ever have considered the young man who walked past him now to be a mere peasant stablehand; how he had never seen the king he so obviously was.

As they reached the far end of the dais, the Four turned smartly to face the assembled people. They stood as if they were in front of their ancient thrones, the High King and Queen Susan in the middle, with King Edmund and Queen Lucy flanking them on either side. Almost as one, they lifted their heads high, directing their attention, and the attention of the crowd, to the end of the aisle.

There, two figures began their progress forward. One was a great Lion, golden, beautiful, terrifying, and entrancing. The other was a dark-haired young man, who looked like his father, but held himself with a pleasant nobility that few of his ancestors ever possessed. The crowd watched in curious anticipation as the two ascended the stone dais. This was already like no coronation in Telmarine history: presided over by four kings and queens, held outside to be observed by the people. And this Lion! Not even the Narnians knew what to expect, as the ceremony mixed Narnian and Telmarine, and even completely new rituals.

Such as the one happening before their very eyes. As The Great Lion turned to face the people, Caspian did not follow. Instead, he faced Aslan and knelt, head bowed low. It was Aslan who spoke, to Caspian and to all who gathered in the field outside Beaversdam. The words were simple, as they had been over a millennium before:

"To the stars who shine upon two peoples made one, I give you King Caspian the Tenth of Narnia."

No one thought to question Aslan's ability and authority to declare Caspian king, not even the Telmarines. It was true _because_ the Great Lion declared it to be so; the trappings of the crowning were only outward confirmation.

Still, excitement grew as an uncomfortable-looking Trumpkin stepped forward, holding the shined and sparkling crown on a velvet pillow. He bowed towards Caspian before turning to his side, where Lord Glozelle stood. Glozelle nodded at the Red Dwarf before carefully lifting the crown. As Trumpkin stepped back, Glozelle bowed and placed the crown on Caspian's head, where it settled as if it truly belonged there and no where else.

Glozelle withdrew and Aslan smiled at Caspian, who was trying not to tremble with nerves. The love in Aslan's eyes calmed the young king, and Caspian smiled back as Aslan spoke again. "Bear it well, Son of Adam," he said before walking around Caspian to stand behind him.

Caspian remained on his knees. The people murmured amongst themselves, wandering why he did not rise. They were answered as the High King stepped forward and placed his hand on Caspian's shoulder. The High King's eyes blazed an intense blue as he blessed and commanded in his bold, strident voice: "Rule now with justice."

King Edmund stepped forward, his hand joining his brother's. "Rule now with mercy," he counseled, and he smiled down at his friend.

Queen Susan seemed to glide as she approached Caspian, her hand resting softly on his other shoulder. "Rule now with kindness," came the Gentle Queen's wish, and no one who heard her could want anything but to fulfill that desire.

Lastly, Queen Lucy came forward, and her siblings almost seemed to fade compared to the light in her face as her hand joined theirs. "Rule now with faith," she said, simply and without any hint of expectation that the new king would do otherwise.

Their blessing finished, the Four stepped back. Only then did Caspian rise to his feet. He stood there for a moment, gaining strength from the encouraging looks of his fellow sovereigns. Then, taking a deep breath, Caspian turned to face his people.

Almost in the same moment, the High King's golden voice rang out: "Long live King Caspian!"

The crowd erupted as they responded. "Long live King Caspian!" came the shouts, again and again until their voices devolved to inarticulate cries of joy. The new king beamed at this show of support from his people. The Kings and Queens of old exchanged grins, caught up themselves in the excitement.

In front of them all, gazing upon his children with approving love, Aslan watched and smiled.

~*~

The rest of the day of the coronation was a blur. There was a procession to Beaversdam castle and a great feast, fireworks and laughter and joy. It took the entire next day for everyone to recover from the celebration.

It was only as evening approached that Edmund felt fully coherent and conscious, alert enough to walk the corridors of the castle. He had always been a night owl anyway - much to the delight of the old Parliament - so the previous night's late hours had not been as hard on him as it had some of the others. Unfortunately, the calm and quiet that came after the bustle of preparation and the coronation itself left Edmund too alone with his thoughts. And, with him and Peter reconciled, his thoughts now turned to the future.

A future, he feared, that might not be in Narnia; for him and his siblings at least.

The possibility had been preying at the back of his mind for awhile, ever since the gathering at the Dancing Lawn when Edmund had resigned his active rule in favor of Caspian. As he had said to his people then, Aslan meant for Caspian to rule Narnia now. Edmund knew that Lucy, and perhaps Susan and even Peter, believed that they would be able to stay and rule with him. Edmund was not so sure.

"Your Majesty?"

Edmund dragged himself away from his thoughts at Glenstorm's inquiring voice. With a jolt, he realized that he had been walking around in a near circle around the castle halls. He must have passed the room Glenstorm was in once too often for the centaur's peace of mind. "Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere. Did you need me for something?"

The centaur gestured for him to enter. As he did, Edmund noticed that Glozelle was sitting across a small table from Glenstorm. Centaur and Telmarine had formed a strong friendship since the battle, and now it seemed they were sharing a good wine – and likely discussing how they intended to keep Caspian safe and out of trouble. It was strange, and yet gratifying, to see these two take on the roles that Orieus and Peridan had for Edmund and his siblings over a thousand years before.

Glozelle stood and bowed smartly. "My lord, we thought you seemed troubled," the man explained. "Might we be of some assistance?"

Edmund sighed and sunk into one of the chairs, allowing Glozelle to sit again. "I am just…contemplating the future of Narnia."

Glenstorm shifted his hind legs, and his dark eyes were sad and knowing. "You do not believe you will see it," he stated without question.

Glozelle's head snapped up. "What do you mean?" His demand was accompanied by a slight fear in his eyes. A product of Miraz's rule, Glozelle was still struggling to overcome the lessons that had been drilled into him. Such as assuming the worst.

Glenstorm was quick to reassure his friend. "The stars speak of the loss of the Four. But they do not speak of death. It is a dance passed down from my ancestors, that graced the skies the nights before our Sovereigns first disappeared thirteen hundred years ago." When Edmund looked up at him in wonder, Glenstorm shook his head. "My foresires did not understand the sign until after what it predicted came to pass. They handed down the star-signs down through the generations, in memory of their grief."

Edmund rather hated having his fears confirmed. Wordlessly, he held out a hand and Glozelle passed him a goblet of wine. He savored the pleasant taste of the drink before setting it on the table and leaning back in his chair. Edmund looked at his friends with bleak eyes. "I know I don't have to ask you to look after Caspian when we are gone. But he doesn't just need protectors. He needs friends."

Both nodded, and Glozelle added, "Lady Mareteya has already…admonished me the same. His majesty stands to have quite some mothering from the lady, I think." Edmund decided not to tease the man about the fond smile that crossed his face when mentioning the Comtisa of Beruna. It wasn't the proper time for that. Yet.

He did allow himself a smile, though, approving Glozelle's intuition that Caspian could stand to have the support of a family, blood relation or otherwise. "That's good, he'll need that." Edmund tapped his chin in thought. "Lord Glenstorm, I know I have already expressed my admiration to our soldiers. I would ask, though, that you reassure them of my continued respect, and reassure all Narnians that we are not abandoning them. That we are confident we leave Narnia in good hands." It was something he wished he could have done for his people before. The Pevensies all felt a lingering guilt at not having provided for a contingency should all four have fallen, which left their people feeling so abandoned that it was felt generations later. Edmund would not repeat that mistake.

Glenstorm nodded solemnly. But then he folded his arms in an uncharacteristically stubborn gesture. "I will do as you wish, Your Majesty. However, I respectfully refuse to be the one to deal with Hwella when she learns you are leaving." He had dealt with the overprotective Horse enough; he had no wish to subject himself to her reaction to _this. _Edmund rolled his eyes and turned to Glozelle, but Glenstorm was quicker. "My friend, I would suggest you refuse as well. I _strongly_ suggest, in fact." Glozelle looked confused, but he took his new friend's advice, having learned well the centaur's wisdom. As Edmund glowered, Glenstorm had the audacity to _smile_. "Your Majesty, perhaps you should speak to Hwella personally, beforehand."

"Speak to me before what?" Three heads turned to where the Mare in question poked her own head through the doorway. Taking this as an invitation, Hwella walked into the room and stood before Edmund. "I was looking for you, my king. Doctor Cornelius and Trufflehunter are arguing about the organization of the castle library, and Trumpkin is threatening to shoot someone if you don't put an end to it."

Edmund smiled. He had sent the Red Dwarf to oversee Cornelius and Trufflehunter as they dealt with consolidating the castle archives. Caspian had mentioned that he was considering Trumpkin for a position on his advisory council, and Edmund thought dealing with the library would be good management experience. "So he threatens; but I think we don't have to worry. Besides, Trumpkin needs to practice his diplomacy skills."

If he didn't know better, Edmund would have thought he heard Glenstorm mutter, "What diplomacy skills?" He was sure he was mistaken, though, despite the odd glance Glozelle gave the centaur.

However, there was little time to consider this, since Hwella returned to a topic that Edmund would rather have dealt with later. Later, as in never. "What did you wish to speak with me about, my king?"

Edmund looked to Glenstorm and Glozelle, hoping to beseech their aid. He scowled to see that they were actually _smirking_ at him. Honestly, no one gave a king any respect these days. Knowing he would find no help in that corner, Edmund braced himself and decided just to get it over with. "We were discussing the fact that, now that Caspian has been crowned, my siblings and I have fulfilled the purpose for which Aslan brought us."

Hwella gave him a suspicious look. "And?"

"And…" Edmund's shoulders slumped. He hated this. Hated, hated it. "And it is likely that we will be returning to our own land soon."

Hwella let out an indignant snort. "_Narnia_ is your land!" she insisted, but her voice trembled.

"Yes, but you know what I meant."

It is an odd sight when a Horse's face crumbles in distress. Odd, but that doesn't make the sight any easier to bear. "You can't leave! You're my king, Narnia is your kingdom. You fought a war, you almost _died_! I won't let you leave!"

Edmund reached out and gently stroked her neck. "Would you go against Aslan to do so?" That deflated her anger. Stubborn though she was, she was loyal and would submit to the will of the Lion, no matter how much it hurt. She and her rider were much the same that way. "Hwella, I don't want to go either. But our rule has been over for a millennium. Caspian is your king now."

"Not _my_ king," retorted Hwella, and she stomped her front hoof for emphasis.

Edmund looked at her sternly. "Yes, your king. Hwella." At his soft voice, the Mare lowered her head to look right at him. "You have fulfilled your oath to bear me. Now there is another king for you, Kingbearer."

"That is not part of my oath."

"You carried Lucy to the wounded, didn't you? Had it been necessary, I think you would have done the same for Peter or Susan."

Hwella did not quite meet his eyes. "That was different. They are your family."

"So is Caspian." That caught her attention. Edmund moved to scratch her forehead fondly. "One doesn't have to be blood to be family. Please, Hwella? I would not ask if I didn't think Caspian needed all the help he can get staying out of trouble."

There was a long pause as Hwella struggled within herself with what he asked of her; then the Horse blew out her breath in a resigned huff. "Well, after you, watching him should not be a problem."

Edmund grinned; though he didn't know it, that smile was enough to melt away the last vestiges of Hwella's resistance. "Thank you, my friend."

Hwella butted her head against his chest. "I will miss you, my king."

"And I, you." Edmund looked at Glenstorm and Glozelle, smirks gone and replaced by somberness. "I'll miss all of you."

It was the closest Edmund had ever come to saying goodbye. He didn't regret it. And he knew an even harder one was soon to come.

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	32. Chapter 32

**Note: **Only one more chapter after this, a fairly short one to warn you in advance (sort of an epilogue).

**Chapter 32**

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Edmund pulled at his vest, growling as he fumbled with the ties. Another ceremony – this one to deal with the Telmarines who were refusing to live in harmony with the Narnians – meant that he had to wear yet another fancy outfit. He and his siblings, well, mostly Susan, had found the most Narnian Telmarine formal clothes available, but they were still not as comfortable as usual Narnian fare. Edmund _really_ hoped, for Caspian's sake, that the Narnians brought back the old way of dressing as well.

Finally looking presentable, Edmund decided that the introduction of comfortable clothing should be near the top of Caspian's priority list. A list Edmund was conveniently writing for him. Pulling out the small notebook, Edmund began scribbling. Honestly, he wouldn't have to be _doing_ this if Caspian wasn't thinking Edmund would always be there to _tell_ him all the things he needed to know and do.

Unfortunately, after the two days since speaking with Glozelle, Glenstorm, and Hwella, Edmund was beginning to think that Caspian was actively avoiding the mere idea that the four Pevensies would not be staying forever and ever. Any time Edmund tried to broach the subject, talk about the future, Caspian waylaid the conversation to ask about this or that aspect of ruling. Edmund would actually have been proud of Caspian's blossoming deflection abilities – a useful trait in a king – if it weren't for the fact that they were being used against _him._

"Ed?" Looking up, Edmund blinked. Caspian leaned against the doorway wearing…Edmund went back to his notes and scribbled: _Do not ask fauns or older Telmarine ladies for fashion advice. Tunics should _not_ look like dresses_. He paused, chewed at the end of his quill, then underlined 'not' twice.

Finished, Edmund shut the book on the table. "Is everything about ready?"

Caspian nodded, but his eyes were looking at the notebook, curiosity shining in them. "Lucy is waiting for us in the green study; but I can't find Peter or Susan."

"They're in the courtyard. Speaking with Aslan." A pit formed in Edmund's stomach when he thought of it. Something was happening, something important, and Edmund had a sinking feeling it had to do with the upcoming ceremony. Caspian, though, was apparently not disturbed. He was too busy trying not to show his intrigue over what Edmund had been writing. Edmund picked up the book. "It's for you, you know. For after we…"

"I should probably go tell Peter, Susan, and Aslan that we're ready. Wouldn't do to be late for this." Before Edmund could even respond, Caspian had disappeared out the door.

_Yes, definitely avoiding the subject_. Edmund placed the book back on the table before heading down to the green study to find his little sister.

~*~

"Narnia belongs to the Narnians, just as it does to men. Any Telmarines who want to say and live in peace are welcome to. And for any of you who wish, Aslan will return you to the home of our forefathers."

Caspian was certainly getting better at speaking to crowds. Edmund approved of the gentle, uncondemning tone the new king used; after all, many of the Telmarine who would likely take the offer to leave were not bad people. They had just had their world turned around, with everything they and their families had known for generations being torn down at an incredibly fast pace. Many were just too set in their ways to live comfortably among the Narnians.

Edmund tuned back in to hear Aslan announce that the Telmarines were brigands from…_their_ world? The Pevensies looked at each other, shocked. They had never really considered that others beside themselves had ever entered Narnia after its creation; they had just assumed that the humans inhabiting this world were descended from the first king and queen of Narnia, Frank and Helen.

Frowning, Edmund looked out into the crowd as Aslan told them that the island he would return the Telmarines to was a fair land and a good place to start anew. The Telmarines he knew were not very adventurous. It would take a good leader and a brave man to be the first to enter an unknown world.

Or a brave woman. Lady Prunaprismia, holding her baby, stepped forward. She trembled slightly, but her voice was sure and strong as she said, "We will accept this offer." She spoke for herself and her son, as well as for her father, Lord Scythley, who accompanied her.

Edmund winced at the hurt in Caspian's face as Prunaprismia walked towards him and Aslan. "Aunt…" He was likely going to reassure her of her welcome in his kingdom and home. Maybe even plead with her to stay, and perhaps try and be a family since they had already reconciled over Miraz's death.

Prunaprismia, though, cut him off with a hand to his cheek. "It must be, Caspian. For there to be peace in Narnia, for you to be safe, we cannot stay." Pulling back, she gave him a sad, but encouraging, smile. "Rule well, Caspian."

Prunaprismia and Lord Scythley turned to Aslan. "Because you have spoken first, your future in that world shall be good," he told them, and he breathed on them in blessing. Both humans stood straighter and, as the great tree in the yard opened, they walked towards it without fear. Prunaprismia stole one last glance at Aslan, and stepped into her future.

Their disappearance startled the crowd, who began murmuring suspicion and discontent. How did they know the lady, her child, and her father had not just been killed by this strange lion? The murmuring grew louder, enough so that Reepicheep volunteered to take some of his own people through to prove Aslan's honor.

Edmund, however, felt his stomach twist as he saw Peter and Susan exchange looks between themselves and with Aslan. Suddenly, Aslan's mentioning that the Telmarines were being returned to _their_ world was looking more pointed. His fears were confirmed as Peter spoke up, his voice clear and firm. "We'll go."

Hearing Lucy suck in a pained breath, Edmund laid a hand on her arm. "That's it then?" he asked, though it was more of a resigned statement.

Peter turned to him and Edmund's heart clenched to see the sadness in his eyes. "Our time's up here." The look he gave Susan made Edmund think there was more going on. But Peter put on his unruffled royal face, and walked over to Caspian. Removing Rhindon from his belt, the High King presented his sword to the new king of Narnia. "After all, Narnia is in good hands now." That was truly what mattered; not their own wishes, but that their people and land would be well cared for. It seemed Peter had realized that again and, despite his sadness at leaving Narnia, there was no despair as there had been before.

Caspian, though, looked close to devastation. He tried to remain calm as he took Rhindon. "I will look after it until you return." Edmund could tell Caspian wanted to believe they would return in his lifetime, despite the millennium that passed before; in fact, Edmund was hoping the same thing, that he would have another chance to see his friend.

Which was why Edmund's breath caught when Susan spoke. "I'm afraid that's just it. We're not coming back."

Edmund was glad Lucy was able to ask, "We're not?" even if her voice was low to keep it from trembling. His own voice was lost at the thought of never seeing Narnia again, never seeing _Aslan_. This couldn't be happening. Edmund had been prepared to leave Narnia, leave his friends. He didn't think he could ever be ready to live without even the _hope_ of seeing his home once more.

Peter, though, was quick to try and lay their worries to rest. "No, you two will return." Glancing at Aslan, he continued, "At least, I think he means you to."

Edmund did not think this was much better at all. Return to Narnia without Peter and Susan? Lucy seemed just as confused and, as always when she needed help, she turned to Aslan. "But why? Did they do something wrong?" While Edmund could think of many mistakes they had made, he and Lucy had made their own fair share. And besides, Aslan had forgiven them; there shouldn't be such a punishment.

Aslan, though, allayed their confusion: "Quite the opposite, dear one, but all things have their time. Your brother and sister have learned what they can from this world. Now it is time for them to live in their own." Still not sure he understood, Edmund knew he had to trust Aslan that this was right. It was just…he was just so afraid that this would break Peter again; it had been bad enough when he still had hope of returning.

Edmund's fear must have been evident, because Aslan, after giving Edmund a reassuring smile, turned to look at Peter, compelling Edmund to follow his gaze. "Ed." He looked up at his older brother who came over to him, taking one of Lucy's hands in his and placing the other on Edmund's shoulder. "It's alright. We'll be alright. It's not how I thought it would be." There was a strange light in Peter's eyes, and Edmund knew he was still missing something. Peter, however, just smiled and, instead of enlightening them, only said, "One day, you'll see too. But for now…just know it's alright."

There was a plea in Peter's last sentence. A plea for them, for Edmund, to trust him. Edmund bit his lip, but nodded. He had decided to trust Peter again, and this would be a start. Edmund was rewarded with a warm smile. "Come on," Peter told them softly, and they moved as one…to say goodbye.

Susan was already saying her own farewell to Caspian, presenting him her horn just as Peter had given his sword. Caspian, who had handed Rhindon to Lord Glozelle for safekeeping, took the horn and bowed, swearing to her that he would keep it safe and use it wisely. Susan dipped her head in response, and turned to speak with the other Narnians who stood nearby.

Caspian barely had time to hand Glozelle the horn when Lucy threw her arms around him. "Be safe, Caspian. And don't be hesitant to use my cordial if it's needed."

Smiling, Caspian hugged her tightly before releasing her. "Fare well, my lady." Lucy gave him a tearful smile before moving over to say goodbye to Trumpkin. Peter went with her; giving Rhindon to Caspian was all the farewell needed for them.

This left Edmund and Caspian facing each other and not really knowing what to say. Caspian finally broke the silence. "It isn't fair." His dark eyes were a mix of anger and sorrow. "What is the use of gaining a throne only to lose my family?" Losing his aunt and cousin, and the potential for family there, was hard; losing those he had come to see as siblings, particularly Edmund, might be even worse.

Edmund knew Caspian's frustration and knew there was not much he could say to comfort him. So he simply said, "Remember Lesson One." Trust Aslan and seek his will in all things. As much as even Edmund still didn't understand, as much as it hurt to leave Narnia, he had to have faith that it would work out for the best. Because Aslan willed it.

Caspian's head lowered. Edmund could practically see him struggling with that same faith. When Caspian reached a decision, it could be seen in how he set his shoulders, and how his eyes burned with determination – and with holding back tears. "I will remember. I will remember all you have taught me, and try to be worthy of the trust you have given."

"I know you will." Edmund held out his right hand, and Caspian grasped his forearm tightly. In a quick motion, Edmund used the grip to pull Caspian into a half-hug. "Take care of yourself, brother."

Caspian nodded into Edmund's shoulder before pulling back. His voice was thick as he spoke. "And you, brother. Until we meet again." Edmund felt his own throat close at the faith in Caspian's words. And it only tightened more as he moved to stand with Peter, Susan, and Lucy.

Taking one last look at Narnia, at his friends and adopted brother, at Aslan, Edmund turned to the door in the great tree. He glanced at Peter, who smiled and held out his hand. This time, Edmund took it.

Then Susan took Peter's other hand and Lucy took hers, and the three of them looked to Edmund. Breathing in, Edmund began walking and was the first to step out of Narnia, into the air…and back to the underground station in London.

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	33. Chapter 33

**Note: **The last chapter! I hope everyone has enjoyed the story. Again, thank you to laily7429 for betaing, and to those who have commented on the story; you have all helped me become a better writer.

**Chapter 33**

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The abrupt transition was so jarring that Edmund forgot how to breathe for a moment. He only remembered when Peter bumped into his back, the older boy just as disoriented. Edmund quickly turned and steadied his brother, who smiled warmly, if dazedly, in return. He heard Susan sigh and saw Lucy glance behind her, her face stiffening when all she saw was the train platform. Edmund winced just looking at the dark, claustrophobic tunnel he was now stuck in. Narnia never felt so far away.

The four stood there in silence as the train in front of them slowed to a stop. Even after the doors opened they didn't move until a boy called out to someone named Phyllis – while, strangely, looking at Susan – to ask if she was getting on the train. The boy's voice jolted them out of their stupor, and they rushed to grab their bags and hop on the train before the doors closed.

Despite the noise in the traincar, Edmund felt like he was surrounded by unbearable silence. It was the silence of his siblings, the strained looks on their faces, on _Peter's _face; and with each moment he felt the tension on their bond tightening, close to breaking again. Desperate to keep this from happening, Edmund almost frantically rummaged through his knapsack, reaching for anything that might help him break the terrible silence.

He frowned as his hand met air where it should not have met it, and the confusion actually calmed his fear. "Susan?" She looked over at him from where she had been studiously ignoring the boy who had called her Phyllis. Edmund turned her attention to his knapsack. "What happened to my torch?" Indeed, his birthday gift was missing, despite the rest of his clothing and possessions – long gone in Narnia – being back as if nothing had happened.

Susan's eyes widened and she looked among her siblings as she tried to formulate an explanation. "During the raid…there was a Telmarine…my bow got knocked out of my hands for a moment…it was the first thing I could grab…Oh Ed, I left it in Narnia!"

It was as if she didn't know whether to be appalled or puzzled. She was leaning more towards upset when Lucy interrupted with an exclamation: "Oh, so _that's _it!" When her siblings looked at her, she explained. "Before we left, I saw a little Telmarine girl using something cylindrical to hit her brother and make him stop bothering her. I thought it looked familiar, but it was covered with so much mud…" Lucy trailed off at the blank looks she was getting.

It was surprisingly Peter who finished the conversation with his comment, "Then it's a good thing she has it instead of Ed." Peter grinned. "For my sake, at least."

Susan stared at Peter and Edmund choked on air. When was the last time Peter had tried to make a joke? Not even in Narnia, not even after speaking with Aslan after the battle. It was enough to turn the moment solemn; only Lucy ruined it by giggling. Which set Susan off laughing, and Peter kept smiling, so Edmund just gave in and elbowed his older brother. "I don't need a torch to beat you, old man."

Peter's eyes narrowed playfully. "Care to place a bet, laddie?' he asked as he grabbed at Edmund's neck to try and pull him into a headlock.

"Not on the train!" Susan almost shrieked as Edmund nearly bowled into her while escaping, but there was a smile on her face as well.

Reluctantly, the boys settled down, knowing they probably shouldn't make a scene – they were kings, after all. The atmosphere remained happy and content, though, and if Edmund stood closer to Peter than normal English boys usually did their brothers, well, he could blame it on the crowd in the train.

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As the girls began chattering to each other about school, Peter looked over at Edmund. The smile on the older boy's face had faded, but the light remained in his eyes. "You don't have to worry about me, Ed. I intend to keep my promise." Blast, Peter must have noticed his near panic in the train before. Edmund glanced away, frustrated and slightly ashamed that, despite his resolve, he had let himself fall back to fearing the worst. He wanted to force himself to have faith, but now, especially when Aslan's comfort seemed so far away, it was just so _hard_.

"Edmund," Peter's soft voice forced him to look up into intense, blue eyes. "As you are my strength, brother, I will be yours." Like it had been before Peter had fallen away, when they had supported each other in all things. It was as much a promise as that which he had given at the manor in Beruna. Edmund would be there for Peter, as always, but now Peter was there to be the pillar of their family once more.

Edmund nodded solemnly, accepting the charge and the promise. "And may Aslan guide us in this and all things."

"Let it be so," prayed Peter, and it was a true, fervent prayer that brought smiles to both their faces.

The train lurched, and the moment was broken. But both Edmund and Peter knew, as intrinsically as they knew their own heartbeats, that the promises spoken would endure. That they would hold fast to their oaths and to each other, even until life released its hold and Aslan called them home.

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_fin_


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